Ever After
by the typewriter improviser
Summary: "You think I like what I've done? I only did it because he's dead and gone!" Anna spent her life after the war trying to make the world a place he'd be proud of, all while trying to figure out how to live without him. When she find out she doesn't have to, though, they both might be too far gone. (Sequel to Beyond Repair)
1. Chapter 1: I Remember You

_"I keep going to the river to pray  
_ _'Cause I need something that can wash out the pain  
_ _And at most I'm sleeping all these demons away  
_ _But your ghost, the ghost of you  
_ _It keeps me awake"  
-Ghost by Ella Henderson_

* * *

Anna POV

"Ellie said you did some work for the government a few years back," Adam said casually. "Not to _brag_ , or anything, but I did a stint in the treasury department."

"Wow…" I trailed off lazily. I hand my chin in my hand, elbow propped up on the table. " _Fascinating_." I tacked on at the end, using the tip of my finger to spin the ice in my drink.

A friend of mine, Ellie, had convinced me to go out on this _boring_ date. She'd told me that my 'it's just too soon' excuse had lost its value several years ago. Every few months she'd wear me down, I'd cave, and go out on the date with the stiff she'd found for me. Adam began droning on about the treasury department, and I stared at my drink, still spinning my ice.

 _Jeez, this guy is on a_ date _with_ you _and he's talkin' about gettin' coffee for a guy who watches a bunch'a stacks of green paper all day? Does he_ know _what you used to do? I don't know if I should laugh or feel bad for the guy!_

I smiled a little; just a little twitch of the corner of my lips.

I could almost hear his laugh.

 _Almost_.

"That's an odd chain." Adam pointed out, reaching across the table for the ball chain around my neck. My hand shot out and grabbed his wrist just as his fingers pinched the chain off my skin. I stared wordlessly at Adam with a look Howard used to interpret as 'Go ahead, I dare you'. Adam slowly let the chain go, and I dropped his wrist.

He chuckled. "Ellie said you picked up a few tricks."

I gave him a little shrug, and protective hand over the dog tags under my shirt. "I picked up more than a few." I said honestly. Adam gave that smug chuckle again, and waved a waiter over to get more liquor. The last thing this man needed was _more liquor_.

When he was turned away from me, I soundlessly got up from the table. I heard Adam call for me as I reached the doors to the restaurant, but I didn't even turn around.

If I wanted to be _that_ bored, I would have stayed in Russia to finish the rest of the files in the Kremlin. At least I could talk to Kára there.

I breathed in a lungful of cool evening air before starting down the streets of New York City. No matter where I went, where my work took me, where I paid taxes, where I bought homes or where my biggest bank account was; New York City was my _home_. To be more specific, my apartment in Brooklyn was my home. I moved in there three days after I got back stateside from the war. It may not be my fanciest home, or my biggest, most expensive, extravagant, or party-worthy, but it was where I kept all my prized possessions. It was _home_.

A light drizzle started to fall from the sky. I sighed and stopped to look at my reflection in a store window.

I'd taken to using a flat iron on my hair every morning, erasing my curls and replacing them with a thick, slightly wavy mane of honey blonde hair. When Peggy first saw it, she didn't recognize me. She never really got used to it. Howard had thrown a full-out grown-up hissy fit about it. But that was years ago.

I almost didn't recognize myself with curls anymore; my hair was straight all the time now. But rain; _rain_ would make my straight hair curl and frizz up faster than a UZRGM hand grenade. They _say_ the fuses are 2.5 seconds; they are _wrong_ , it's a .5 second fuse at the longest. TJ got an earful from me in the middle of a Serbian militant camp for _that_ little piece of misinformation.

I ducked into a small bar I was passing to avoid my hair becoming an explosion of curls, and took the opportunity to call Ellie to tell her she must not know me very well if _Adam_ is who she sets me up with.

" _Adam Clark is a perfectly pleasant man!_ " Ellie said loudly when I told her how my partial date went.

"Yeah, but if I wanted to be agonizingly tortured with boredom like _that_ , I-"

" _-would have stayed in Russia_." Ellie finished for me. She sighed; exasperated. " _You said you wanted_ normal _, Anna._ "

"Normal for _me_! Not normal for _Junie R. Homemaker_!" I snapped irritably, reaching to the back of my head where some of the straightened strands were starting to curl.

" _You have no normal, Anna._ " Ellie reminded me.

" _Are you going to go see him?_ " She asked after a brief pause.

I paused, my eyes falling shut. After all this time, just the mention of him made my breathing stutter.

I leaned forward until my forehead was pressed against the window of the bar. The cool glass contrasted with the heating screen of the cell phone I had pressed to my cheek. It was the newest model; Tony Stark had submitted it to S.H.I.E.L.D. a few weeks ago in return for them looking the other way when he hooked his AI up to the facial recognition and DNA database.

"Don't I _always_ after a crappy date?" I asked, opening my eyes to stare at my shoes scuffing the floor.

" _When do you_ ever _have a_ crappy date _?_ "

"All my dates are crappy."

" _Didn't you once have a date with an East European diplomat who flew you to Japan just because you said you liked the cherry blossoms?_ "

"He grabbed my ass," I said defensively. "I was having a _grand_ old time looking at the trees in the emperor's garden and the guy got handsy."

" _You fractured his clavicle_." Ellie reminded me.

I paused. "I have high standards."

" _You have_ impossible _standards_."

"They're not _impossible_...Someone _surpassed_ them before."

There was a muffled, frustrated and anxious groan on the other side of the phone.

I could picture Ellie now; yanking on her long dark braid with her glasses falling down her nose. She worried about me a lot. Ellie just worried a lot in general; about _everything_.

" _Didn't...Didn't he tell you to be happy and find someone?_ " Ellie asked me.

"I can either _find someone_ or _be happy_. Not both."

" _It...It's been a long time, Anna_." Ellie said quietly.

"I've lived 66 years, 4 months, 20 days without him." I rattled off automatically. I rubbed my eyes with the heel of my hand, not caring if I messed up my makeup.

"I'll text you when I'm back in Brooklyn," I said before hanging up.

I jammed my phone in the back pocket of my jeans, flipped the hood of my jacket up, stuffed my hair inside it and headed for Grand Central Station.

* * *

"Hey," I said softly, my hands sheepishly in the pockets of my jacket as I approached the grave stone. I slowly sat in the thick green grass in front of it, and let my eyes trail over the familiar words carved into the stone. I had Frank, the night guard, turn on a few more lights when I jumped the fence.

"I...I'm sorry its been so long...I've been in Russia," I said with a slight smile. It'd been almost six months since I've been here to see him. "You...You know that I volunteer to take the dozen probies there. It-It reminds me of when I helped train those first few lab assistants before leaving Camp Leigh...They're all so _happy_ and _proud_ to be doing what they're doing...It's only a matter of time before they realize they're not happy anymore."

I reached forward and trailed my fingers over the J of his first name before pulling it back quickly.

They wouldn't let me put _Bucky_ on the stone.

"Ellie made me go on another date tonight." I said, beginning to pull and pick at the thick grass in front of my crossed legs.

I scoffed lightly. "I-I know we never _really_ went out...but I'm pretty sure it's not supposed to be _that_ boring."

I took a shaky breath and looked back up at the grave stone.

It was a little worn now; after almost seven decades that was to be expected. The dark letters carved into it stood out against the pale stone; _James Buchanan Barnes_. His date of birth and death were listed under it, and a simple cross above it all. Howard had asked me if I wanted anything else on the stone; he was more than willing to pull the necessary strings to make it happen.

I decided against it; Bucky wouldn't want anything special. He never did.

I didn't get a say in what was on Steve's stone. It was unanimous that Bucky and Steve would be buried next to each other, but that was all they got right.

Peggy and I made a real stink about having a cross on Steve's stone, like he, a good Irish Catholic boy, would have wanted. Even with Howard giving our voice some pull, we couldn't do anything.

On the grave next to me, _Steven Grant Rogers_ , like Bucky's, his date of birth and his date of death were under his name. A carving of the iconic shield was above his name; where the _cross_ should be.

"I was in London a few weeks ago, on my way back from Moscow...Saw the old place; the bunker." The more I spoke, the more my voice started to shake. "It's not a little shop anymore, it's a dinner...No idea what's under it all."

"They-They make a _real_ nice fish and chips." I wiped my hand under my eyes.

Over the years, I've lost Howard and Maria, Ian, Peter, Rebecca and her husband, all of the Commandos, Peggy was gone in almost every sense but the literal now. I had so few people I could talk to about him. I couldn't let him leave me too.

There was a very short list of people I trusted with my life, and even with them, there was a list of things I just didn't do in front of people anymore; _crying_ was at the top of the list.

Bucky was the only person I could cry in front of anymore.

I sniffed and frowned when my phone vibrated in my back pocket. I pulled it out, and rolled my eyes as I hit ignore.

TJ could wait.

"I miss you," I said, my voice quiet. "So... _so much_." I inhaled sharply, and put a hand over my mouth and nose as I choked in a soft cry.

"Now and then I think I'm getting over you...That-That the pain is going away." I said to the gravestone. "I'll wake up in the morning and my heart won't hurt. I'll eat my breakfast, watch the news _and my heart won't hurt_. I-I think I'll be able to go through the day without wanting to come here and cry all day."

"But then I go outside...Walk around Prospect Park or something, and I'll see happy couples." I paused and looked away from the stone. "With their arms around each other...Hands linked together...The girl smiling when the boy whispers sweet things in her ear..." I trailed off. "I think I'm starting to get over you - starting to _heal_ \- and then I see _them_."

I peeked up at the stone. "I see how _happy_ we could have been, and it like I'm back on the kitchen floor in London in 1946."

I was quiet for a few minutes after that, playing with the grass.

I tried to tell Bucky happy things. Things that would have made his eyes sparkle and his face grin. Things like _this_...they would have made him sad; _worried_.

"I think that I'm-I'm starting to _forget_ you," I whispered. "It-It used to be so _vivid_...The way it felt when you held me...How your eyes would sparkle if-if the light hit them _just_ right...What patterns you use to trace on my skin...How your breath felt on my neck when you were mumbling sweet things in my ear when I was half asleep...The feeling in the pit of my stomach when I'd catch you looking at me when I was getting ready in the morning." I cut myself off in a hiccup.

"You're _fading away_." I managed to get out, my hand reaching out to trace his name again. The other grabbed my vibrating phone and threw it somewhere to my right.

"I still remember things; how it sounded when you called me Glow, what it felt like to wake up in your arms-" I paused and tried to take a deep breath and stop the tears, but they just kept coming.

" _I remember_ how you used to smooth my hair back before you kissed me," I said in a soft whisper, my fingers lingering on the J of his first name. " _I remember_ how your shirts smelled when I wore them to bed when you were gone. _I remember_ how it felt when you had your hand on the small of my back when we danced. _I remember_ how you would mumble Angel Eyes to me when I couldn't sleep."

I sobbed once.

"I remember you!" I said forcefully. I pounded a frustrated fist on the top of the grave stone. "I remember you! I remember you!" With each word, I pounded a fist on the gravestone.

" _I-I remember you!_ " I half-yelled half-sobbed.

"It's not _fair_!" I ground out. If I didn't watch myself, I'd end up screaming. "I-I tried so hard to remember all the little things about you. _So hard_. You-You got ripped away from me and the world couldn't let me keep the _pathetic_ little scraps of memory I have left of you!"

I stood up, unable to look at the stone any more. That happened now and then. I was angry now; I didn't want him to see me so angry. He'd never seen me like that, and he won't.

I clutched the tags around my neck desperately as wiped my nose on my sleeve. I turned back towards the stone and kneeled back down.

" _I_ remember _you_ ," I said shakily, but just as forceful. I had both hands on the stone, gripping the sides. I leaned forward and pressed my forehead to the cool marble over his name.

" _So why are you slipping away?_ "

I could hear my phone vibrating from where I threw it, but I continued to ignore it. _TJ could wait_. I turned so my back was against the stone, the corners digging into my back somewhat painfully as I looked up at the sky.

"I'm trying to make you proud." I said softly, staring blankly up. "I think about what you would say if you saw what I was doin'..."

One corner of my mouth quirked up. "You'd _hate_ it. You'd scream and yell at me until you're blue in the face and out of breath...I'm...I'm doin' things you'd never in a million years want me to be doin'...

"It keeps me goin,' though. I'm-I'm doin' _good_ , Bucky," I whispered, slouching down the stone, getting grass stains on the butt of my jeans. I didn't care though; I had plenty more of them.

I just sat for a while longer, playing with his dog tags and letting the corner of the grave dig into my back. The edges of the sun were just peeking up over the horizon when I jumped the fence again and headed for the train station.

I'd snagged my phone on the way out; I had dozens of missed calls from TJ and Phil, one from a blocked number that just _had_ to be Director Fury, and upwards of 40 texts; mostly from Ellie and how worried she was that I didn't call her, and a few from TJ.

I lazily made my way to my apartment in Brooklyn; the sun was finally up when I was unlocking the large, industrial door that led to a dim hallway. I grabbed my mail from TJ; he had an apartment on the first floor. He tried to talk to me, he was babbling when he handed me my mail. Mid-sentance, I grabbed his door and shut it before going to my own apartment on the eighth floor.

A similar industrial door to the one into the building separated my apartment from the dim hallway. I threw my mail onto the table next to the door, shed my jacket and unceremoniously threw it towards the hooks in the brick; _towards_ , not _on_. I heard it hit the floor.

As I made my way to the kitchen, I paused to balance on one foot to yank my shoe off. I took one more step then yanked off the other. I left them on the hardwood floor, like my jacket.

I opened my fridge, leaned one hand on the door the other on the wall next to me. I stared at the brightly lit, stark white fridge and sighed; contemplating that I _should_ eat, but _nothing_ sounded good.

If I didn't get my appetite back, I'd find go find a burger or something somewhere. Chicago, maybe. Or Denver. Maybe Natasha would want to skip up to a pub in Vancouver we found a few years back. Terrible service, terrible food, _amazing_ beer.

I grabbed a bottle of water from the bottom shelf and headed to the area next to the kitchen; a large sectional sofa around an entertainment system which included a radio, TV with VCR, DVD and Blu-Ray players, a record player, and a small black box that allowed me to connect to the secure S.H.I.E.L.D. network and my laptop, and several sets of Russian nesting dolls. I had a rule; only things 15-years-old or newer in my common areas. Everything older was in my bedroom or in one of my warehouses.

Accept for his picture. I had one 8.5x11 picture of Bucky hanging on my wall. He was my guardian angel now. Up there in Heaven, watching over me and shaking his head at all my close calls.

Everything I did, I did for _him_. I wanted him to be _proud_ of the world I was living in; I wanted him to look down on me and think that the world I created would be the world our kids would have been lucky to grow up in.

But at the same time, he might be up there in Heaven crying because of what _I've done_ to _make_ this world something he'd be proud of. He's my angel up in heaven, with wings, a halo and the all consuming _good_ about him. And _me_?

There are times when I don't think I'm worthy of an angel like him.

When S.H.I.E.L.D. was founded back in the late 40s, I got the nickname _America's Angel_. I'm fairly certain Howard and Kára started it all, but it stuck. It's my nickname in the intelligence community.

In the US Navy, I'm _Dream Girl_ ; I'm either your _best_ dream or your _worst_ nightmare.

I'm _Gracie_ , as in 'Saving Grace,' to the Air Force; I kept a few hundred pilots from flying into a trap in Korea.

The KGB knew me as _Солдат Света_ , or 'Soldier of Light.'

In Interpol, I'm the _Thief of Thieves_ ; this is the only real interesting one. In the late 60s, I got into a burglary kick. I tracked down art stolen by the Nazis, and stole it from the current owners and returned them to the original owners. I was never charged though; I always gave Interpol three terrorists for every piece of art I stole.

I have nicknames in almost every army, navy, intelligence agency, government, militant and terrorist group in the world. Granted, most of them think I'm just a legend, but they _know me_. And if they're not on our side, they _fear me._

 _Angels_ aren't feared.

 _Bucky_ may be an angel, but I, as sure as the day is long, am _not_ one. Not anymore, anyway.

I had just cracked the cap off the bottle when I heard a knock at my door. Three strong taps echoed through the metal and paired with a muffled voice that called my name. I groaned and ignored it; I was in no mood to talk to anybody.

I had just sat down when three more knocks echoed through the lofted ceilings. I groaned, tipped my head back and closed my eyes.

 _Just ignore it, darlin'. You'll be back to your own little world soon..._

I smiled a little, my eyes still closed. When it was late at night, and I was alone in my quiet apartment, I swear I could _feel_ him next to me; the little breeze that would move my hair just the slightest, or the heavy feeling on my shoulder late at night. I _knew_ it was him. He was my guardian angel, because before I met him I sure as hell didn't have one, and he was always watching over me.

When the three knocks came again, harder this time, I groaned and stood up.

"When's your birthday?" I called through the door as I opened the drawer of the small sideboard next to the door.

"Annie, it's-"

I put a round in the chamber. "When's your birthday?" I yelled again. Clint said I got in a 'mood' sometimes, where I didn't want to talk too, look at, or be around people born after 1965.

People started to loose _class_ after 1965.

"But-"

" _When is your goddamn birthday!_ " I yelled, only a few inches from the door.

There were a few seconds of silence before I got an exasperated sounding reply. " _July fourth 1917!_ "

My breath hitched and my heart took off in a sprint. I slowly flipped the metal tab over the peephole and stood up on my tiptoes to look through it. The hallway was dark, aside from some light filtering in through the window on the far right.

The person in front of my door was clearly male, six feet tall _minimum_ , broad shouldered and strong jawed. I tried to see more of their face, but the shadows were keeping me from getting a good look. But I didn't _need_ a good look.

" _No_ ," I breathed, my eyes widening.

I slowly slid the door open just a few inches, and reached my hand through the crack. I used my index finger to give the man's firm abdomen a hard poke.

I quickly retracted my hand and slammed the door shut again, jamming the industrial lock down.

"No...No no _no_..." I whimpered, slowly sliding down the cold metal door. The gun slipped from my fingers. "This isn't real. This _can't_ be real." I had my hands weaving through the hair at the top of my head, grabbing onto it tight and pulling slightly.

Three more knocks.

" _Annie_? Annie, are you alright in there?"

"You're dead. You're dead. You're _dead_." I told myself over and over again like I had a few times before.

"Annabelle Jane Brightman, right?" They asked. "Born in Manhattan in 1919. April third, _right_?"

I slowly turned to face the door and stood up. I fixed my hair a little and slowly unlocked the door. I slid it open just enough to cast some light on the person's face. One side of his mouth quirked up.

"I...I don't know what to say..." He trailed off, one hand jammed in his pocket, the other rubbing the back of his neck.

I hadn't breathed in _at least_ 90 seconds, so I was a little light headed, which made me believe what I was seeing even less.

"Oh, uh," he trailed mumbled and reached into his front pocket. "They, uh, they gave me this."

A hand was held towards me, and I pushed the door open completely.

The hand was holding a medal out to me; fingers pinching a blue ribbon trimmed with red and white, and a gold cross hung from it. An eagle, wings spread, was in the center. I slowly reached forward and took it, feeling the cold metal against my fingers. I slowly flipped it over, and if I hadn't cried so much at Bucky's grave I would have cried again.

There was an engraving on the back of the medal;

 _JAMES  
_ _BUCHANAN  
_ _BARNES_

The man in front of my door had his hands jammed in his pockets, looking down at me with apprehensive blue eyes.

I held the medal close to my chest as I looked up.

Steve had a small, wry smile on his face. "Hi." He said simply. Clearly, he was teasing me; this was the first time I'd looked him in the eye. "You, uh...You look nice, Annie."

I briefly glanced down at my 'date wear,' which consisted of a pair of slim fitting jeans and a silk ivory colored blouse with swirls of black stitching on the cuffs and collar. A small smile flickered over my lips; I missed being given an _honest_ compliment when I opened the door.

I wordlessly grabbed the front of Steve's shirt, yanked him into my apartment, stepped on the quick release for the door, making it slam shut and lock as I threw my arms around his middle and _sobbed_.

Steve, like he always had, automatically hugged me back tightly. He rubbed my back soothingly as I _shook_. I think my nails were digging into his biceps hard enough to leave bruises, but he didn't say anything. I tried to get a hold of myself, sucking in quick breaths as I pulled away from Steve. I didn't go far though. I still had a grip on the beige jacket he wore; I felt like if I let go, he'd disappear like he always did. I'd lost count, starting just six months after they died, of how many times I had dreamed situations like this. I usually woke up screaming or crying.

I wordlessly stared up at him, trying to form words.

"I, uh," Steve finally spoke, scratching the back of his neck again. "I guess we gotta few things to talk about, huh?"

I just blinked at him, nodding ever so slightly. "Yeah...Yeah, we do." I breathed, smiling ever so slightly at the end. "Where do you wanna start?"

Steve smiled a little as well, and looked down, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. "At the beginning, I guess."

I managed to laugh a little.

" _Which_ beginning?"

* * *

 _"_ _Give up the ghost  
_ _No more haunting baby"_

* * *

 **Ah, at long last, the sequel to the oh-so-very-well-received _Beyond Repair_ is up!**

 **I just could wait! I tried, but _clearly_ that didn't go very well. I still have exams coming up, and I still have a lot to do, so until the middle of June, updates may not be as regular as they typically are. Sorry.**

 **I will try to have chapter two up by Friday, though.**

 **Remember; first dozen or so chapters are going along the _Avengers_ plot!**

 **;)**

 **~Christianne**

 **PS~ You know all those stereotypical people that give America a crappy reputation? My itsy-bitsy town is full of them. Anybody want to be my new internet buddy?**


	2. Chapter 2: I Don't Want to Learn

Anna POV

"I can't believe they _didn't tell me_!" I said for the thousandth time.

Steve and I were in my kitchen, sitting across from each other at the island, a large paper bag on it's side between us. I'd ordered burgers from a place down the street. One bacon and cheese with fries and a Sprite for me, and five everything-burgers with extra fries and two Cokes for Steve.

I forgot how much that boy _could eat_.

Steve swallowed before he spoke. "Don't be so hard on them," he told me, pausing to take a drink from the second Coke can. "They told me you'd have had trouble being-"

" _-Objective_ , yeah yeah yeah," I interrupted, waving my hand at him. I heard Steve chuckle slightly. " _Seriously_ though," I continued. "I helped hang the first shingle! They _didn't tell me_ when they _found you in the ice_?"

"They gave me your address right away," Steve reasoned, unwrapping his fourth burger.

"How many?" I asked, getting an odd look. "Addresses. How many did they give you?" _Another_ odd look.

I chuckled a little bit. " _That's_ a conversation for another time." I said honestly, taking a drink of my Sprite.

"I don't know why." I stated as I put my can down.

"Hm?" Steve asked, mouthful.

As great as it was to be sitting across from Steve Rogers in 2012 eating burgers, he made me realize how _bad_ my manners had gotten. Steve was sitting on a stool at my island, had a napkin on his knee, no elbows on the counter top, didn't talk with his mouthful and even pulled out a chair out for me before he sat down. _I_ was sitting on the counter, wiping my fingers on my jeans and wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

"I can practically _hear_ your mind working." I said, a smile on my face. "You're wondering why _I'm_ not any older either."

Steve stopped chewing, and just blinked at me.

"I wasn't frozen." I continued, my nail scratching the aluminum of the can. "I remember every single second from the 67 years it's been since I saw you last."

Steve swallowed and put his burger down, watching me intently as I continued.

"My current theory is radiation." I told him. "I spent some time in Russia and Turkey helping set up their nuclear reactors, and that mixed with the Dreamland Dieter gave me during the war...I got immortality instead of cancer."

" _Dreamland_?"

"The drug Dieter shot me up with," I clarified. "It popped up again in the 1960s. The dealers called it 'Dreamland' 'cause with one dose, you're in _dreamland_ for 16 hours. It doesn't really speak to the effects you suffer _after_ , but... _eh_."

I sighed. "I guess I stopped questioning it around '51." I gave Steve a wry smile. "Why question something that helps you, right?"

Steve smiled a little, but nodded. "So...What _else_ have you been doing for 67 years?" He asked, a small, almost sheepish, smile on his face.

I grinned. "We're gonna need at least a day just to get through the _1970s_." Steve smiled with me.

"I heard Howard got married," Steve spoke up. "Had a kid too, didn't he?"

My gaze fell to the table. "Yeah."

"Is he anything like his dad?"

I shrugged. "I only know what the tabloids say."

"You don't know him?" Steve asked, sounding shocked. "How did Howard get _married_ and _have a kid_ without keeping you in the loop."

"Howard and I had a falling out." I snapped quickly. "I'll tell you about it later."

"But-"

"Steve, _don't make me hit you_." I said warningly.

* * *

I opened up the door to my store room at the back of my apartment. I reached over and flicked the light switch. The room was half the size of the rest of my apartment, and was filled with neat stacks of trunks, boxes, file cabinets and one full size wardrobe.

"Well, wanna start at the beginning and work our way to the present?" I asked Steve, who was behind me. He just shrugged. I took it as a yes and walked towards the trunks at the back.

"Is...Is this all you kept?" Steve asked me. I saw him looking at some of the folded clothes from the 80s I had neatly folded in airtight clear plastic tubs. "I...When you said you kept stuff, I guess expected... _more_."

"This is just the important stuff." I answered, running my hand along the slippery plastic garment bag over the full, ruffled skirt of a ball gown I wore to a ball at the White House in '73. "I have a few warehouses."

"Really?" Steve asked curiously.

"Yeah. But anything you'd want to see is in here." I smiled a little and looked over my shoulder. "Phil thinks I'm a _packrat_."

Steve smiled a little, and kept looking around. "Who's Phil?"

"You'll meet him later..." I said unable to keep a smile off my face. I would need my camera for _that_ introduction.

I stopped at the back and leaned down to look at the various trunks. I had tags on the handles with dates.

"August 1945 through July 1946," I said, pulling a trunk out. Its lid was facing Steve, who copied my cross-legged pose on the floor.

"What's the combination?" Steve asked; the trunk had two combination dials.

"The one on the right is Howard's birthday, the left is Kára's." I said, looking at the other tags.

After Steve put in the dates, he lifted the lid and began sifting through the contents.

While he did, I slowly pulled a second trunk from a dark corner.

"I heard about the bombs," Steve said. I looked over my shoulder and saw him sifting through pictures. "You and Howard helped make them?" He asked, flipping a picture around. It showed Howard and me were bent over _Fat Man_ , one of the atomic bombs.

I felt an acidic feeling crawl up my throat as I nodded. "Yeah." I said simply before turning back to the trunk I had pulled out.

Through the years, back when this trunk was getting regular use, the painted canvas letters had faded and rubbed away. Though there had been several offers by several people to stencil the letters back on, he'd taken a knife to the top of the trunk and carved the letters deep into the wood.

When most people carved into wood with a trench knife, the letters were jagged and shaky from the lack of control. All these letters were made by straight lines, with no stray ones from the edges where the blade slid out of control. They were even and straight; much neater than his handwriting, oddly enough.

"You said you and Howard had a falling out." Steve said, making me slam the trunk back into the corner and spinning around in the same movement. Odd look aside, Steve continued speaking as he looked through the trunk at the various objects and files. "Must'a been pretty big," he mused out loud. "You two were peas from the same pod."

I just shrugged. "People change."

"I've heard that a lot." Steve told me, not looking at me. "I, personally, don't think it's true...Things _can_ change people, but people don't just change."

"People change because they have to." I said, clenching my jaw. "Because they have people to protect."

* * *

 **May 29, 1973**

" _ **Abie**_ _!"_

 _I stopped and braced myself for the three year old to make impact with my legs._

 _Tony's small arms were thrown around my legs as his body hit with full three-year-old running force. I was thankful for the table I was leaning on; without it, I would have fallen._

 _The mess of dark hair was lovingly pressed to my thigh as his arms squeezed me. I was biting down so hard on the inside of my cheek I tasted blood._

 _Tony's head was pressed to a gunshot wound._

" _Abie! Abie_ you came _!" Tony said, finally letting me go. He was bouncing on his heels as he looked up at me._

 _Forcing my pain to another part of my mind, I smiled and leaned down to my 'nephew.' "Of course I came buddy!" I said, laughing a little as I tried to fix his hair. "It's your_ birthday _! How could I miss it?"_

" _You missed Christmas...And New Years...And-And my project." Tony's lower lip jutted out slightly, pouting, but I saw some real sadness in his dark eyes. He was like his father in so many ways; one particular that I found useful over the years was how their eyes were more expressive that their faces. Tony was_ sad _._

 _I smiled sadly and let my gaze drift to the grass. I'd been in Vietnam for the last 18 months. While HYDRA was effectively stomped out the aftermath of WWII, some radicals had picked up the practices in the late '60s. They had been more public than the real HYDRA, and the White House had to put out a press release that the return of one of the most_ effective _and_ destructive _terrorist groups in history posed no threat. It was completely untrue of course, but then again, if it was true, I wouldn't have been in Vietnam. I only worked missions that didn't exist, because_ I _didn't exist. Technically, Annabelle Brightman died in a plane crash in 1951._

 _I stood up and looked around. Per usual, Howard had thrown Tony the biggest, most expensive birthday party a three year old could ask for. At least a dozen bouncy castles, blow-up obstacle courses and of carnival games, some fair rides, a face painting table, cotton candy machine; it was like the 100+ kids were at Coney Island. "How about this," I offered Tony. "Tomorrow, first thing after breakfast, you show me your project."_

 _Tony grinned and nodded eagerly as he grabbed my hand. I let him pull me around the massive yard of the Stark family estate in New York, babbling about the games his dad and him have been playing, what kind of cake his mother, Maria, got for him, and all sorts of other things a little boy should be talking about on his birthday._

 _As he was pulling me around, I caught Howard's eye. He was standing by the bouncy castle, helping kids up and down from the two foot blow-up step that led up into the castle. He stood up straight, and his eyes analized me quickly. I saw how his eyes settled on my slight limp, the swelling under my left eye and the general exhausted look about me._

" _C'_ mon _Abie!" Tony said, yanking on my hand. "I wanna go on the Tilt-A-Whirl with you!"_

 _I broke away from Howard and put on my best faux-smile for Tony. "Lead the way buddy!"_

 _I glanced over my shoulder as Tony pulled me towards the rainbow colored machine, talking about how his dad wouldn't make it go faster. Howard's gaze was following me, extremely worried._ Later _, I mouthed, getting a curt nod._

 _I sat next to the squirming birthday boy in the Tilt-A-Whirl, the bar pressing down onto the gunshot wound on my thigh again._

" _Abie," Tony said, reaching up and cupping his hand over my ear as he spoke in a loud whisper. "You wanna know what I'm gonna wish for when I blow out my birthday candles?"_

 _I spoke in the same loud whisper. "You're supposed to keep that a secret!"_

" _But my dad says you're the best secret keeper," Tony continued. I gave him a doubtful look, and Tony's lower lip jutted out again, this time he was embarrassed and sheepish, not sad._

" _I can hear what my dad says in his office through the vents," he told me after I raised an eyebrow. "He said to Mr. Jarvis that you keep a lot of_ top secret _secrets secret."_

 _I just nodded, and made a note to tell Howard how I may have given Tony a not so good habit;_ eavesdropping _._

 _Tony leaned closer to my ear, still having his hand cupped around his mouth and my ear._

" _I'm gonna wish that you never go away again."_

* * *

"Did, uh..." Steve trailed off, making me look up from the newspaper I was reading.

It'd been three days since Steve showed up at my door. He spent most of his time in my back room, going through all the things I've kept from over the years. I got him a laptop and 'Laptops For Dummies' yesterday. Even though Steve picked up the whole internet thing at a fairly quick pace, he prefered to look through books, my various possessions, and ask me questions. I didn't mind at all.

"Did what?" I asked him, taking a bite of my cinnamon toast.

Steve was sitting across from me at my table with an identical plate of cinnamon toast in front of him and a file about one of the many missions I was a part of during the Korean War. I wasn't anywhere close to the person I am today back then. I wasn't in Korea with a backpack full of C4, a gun at my hip and a bandanna over my face like when I was in Vietnam; I was working with the Red Cross in Korea with Kára. Helping civilian and military victims, counseling children and soldiers, and, to Howard's dismay, translating interrogations of captured North Korean assets.

I picked up languages quickly. I knew so many now, that in my S.H.I.E.L.D. file it actually says 'continued on next page' after a dozen or so.

"Did...Did you find anybody else?" Steve finally asked me.

My brows furrowed in confusion. "Anybody else to what?"

Steve glanced down briefly before speaking. "After...After Bucky died," Steve explained, making the breath catch in my throat. Six decades later, _six decades_ on my own and the mention of his name still made my throat go tight. "...Did you find anybody else?"

I slowly folded up my newspaper and put it on the table between us. I leaned forward, my elbows on the table, and sighed. "Guess you wouldn't be the best friend if you didn't ask, huh?" I gave Steve my cynical smile, which he returned with a soundless chuckle and a small smile.

"Are you asking about me and him, or you and Peggy?" I asked him, making him shift in my kitchen chair. I didn't have to ask why; he was still wrapping his head around how I could look exactly the same as I did when I fixed his broken nose and act so _different_.

"Both, I guess." Steve said after a moment, his rigid posture faltering as his broad shoulders fell forward and he propped one elbow up on the table, the hand pressing to his forehead.

I took another bite of my cinnamon toast, chewed it slowly and swallowed. "I'm gonna sound pretty harsh, and maybe a bit rude, but I'm just being honest, alright?"

Steve nodded.

"Before you became a part of project Rebirth and met Peggy, did you ever have a girlfriend? Didn't have to be a serious one, or more than one date, but did you?" I asked the blond across from me. Under the uncomfortable shifting on Steve's part, there was a nod.

"I didn't," I said, making Steve's eyes flick to me; this was nothing new to him. I hesitated heavily before speaking again.

" _Bucky_...He was my first _everything_." Steve's gaze flicked away from mine again; he knew _very well_ what 'everything' entailed. I was once told by Kára, who was lacking on social graces, that we sometimes were a little _louder_ than we thought.

"You know, he was the first person to tell me I was beautiful." I pointed out, getting a look of clear disbelief from Steve. "Yup...First person to call me _smart_ too..." I trailed off.

"You know how to be with more than one person, Steve," I told him, my voice growing softer. He looked up from his folded hands with conflicted blue eyes. "I'm not saying what you two had wasn't real, I'm pretty damn sure you're gonna love her for the remainder of your life, but I don't know how to love anybody else...You do."

"You're a quick study." Steve muttered, picking the crust off his toast. "I'm sure you could...learn."

"I'm a quick study 'cause I _want_ to learn." I said as I got up, sliding my remaining piece of toast onto Steve's plate.

"I don't _want_ learn how to love anybody else."

* * *

 **The second chapter my beautiful little cupcakes!**

 **I know this is a little shorter, but some pretty AWESOME stuff is in the next one...so...Yup**

 **Hm...Well, I don't think I have any other announcements for you...**

 **;)**

 **~Christianne**


	3. Chapter 3: Steel & Flint

**A/N: Done on my iPad; really crappy editing.**

* * *

 _Three weeks after Steve awoke from the ice, Anna was due for her longstanding appointment to consult with Dr. Erik Selvig on the Tesseract project at a black site in the desert. Anna wanted to postpone her visit, not wanting Steve all on his own, but Steve insisted that she honor her previous commitments. Well, thats what he said anyway. He was a grown man, currently living in the same city he was born in; future or not, he didn't need a babysitter. Anna, however reluctant, went to consult._

* * *

Anna POV

"You shouldn't stand so close."

"Oh _shut up_ Clint." I called up, bringing my nose closer to the blue cube. "It _likes_ me."

"Wanna know what _I'd_ like?" Clint called down to me from his spot up in the rafters.

I turned around and put a hand on my hip. "How'd you get up there anyway?" I asked him.

" _Water_ ," he answered his own question.

"Get it yourself!" I snapped back.

"Can't leave." Clint responded smartly.

I rolled my eyes. "Fine fine fine…I'll get your stupid water…you _crazy_ , _perching, paranoid bastard_."

"I love you too," Clint called back casually.

"With what you put me through? You _better_ , bird-boy!"

* * *

I had taken my sweet time getting Clint's water, when a blast shook the cement around me.

I dropped the plastic bottle on the ground and took off towards the tesseract bunker. I jumped swiftly over carts, and dodged other S.H.I.E.L.D. agents while I tried to get back to the Tesseract bunker, back to Clint, Erik and the rest of the science techs that I _personally_ trained.

The sound of gunfire made me duck and roll, coming to a standing position behind a concrete pillar. I grabbed the gun and my hip, and checked the clip.

I heard footsteps coming closer to me, and I turned my cheek towards the wall, ready to fire at anyone who came around. The moment I saw a foot about to step down, I spun out from my hiding place and fired.

The hand that held my gun was grabbed in a painfully tight grip and smashed against the wall—not that it did much. The gun fell from my hand. I used my other to grab onto this guy's collar, and swung my leg out and gave a swift kick in the side of his ribcage. He released my other wrist, and I moved it up to his collar like my other hand, planning on yanking him down and jamming my knee in his face. He hand other ideas. He grabbed my throat and slammed me against a wall.

Before I could even move in retaliation, there was a blade at my throat. I've been in situations worse than this—this was a _picnic_ compared to what happened in Brazil. But I didn't know who I was fighting. For the first time since I saw the foot, I looked at who I attacked. He had long dark hair, and was wearing an eclectic ensemble of metal and leather.

My eyes narrowed. " _Loki_." I said under my breath. It'd been a long time since I saw the Asgardian prince, but I'd recognise him anywhere.

Realization flicked in the hard blue eyes in front of me, and a (slightly deranged) smile spread over his face. The blade— _spear_ , really, lowered until it was at my chest. "What are you gonna do to me?" I demanded to know, seeing blue swirl around the spear.

He looked _sick_. I remembered him having shorter, smoother black hair that curled under his ears, smooth, flawless pale skin and a mischievous glint to his blue/green eyes that was only partially masked by intelligence. Now, his hair was past his shoulders and was no longer smooth or glossy. His skin was pallid, and covered in a sheen of sweat. There were wide, reddish bruises under and around his eyes, and his chest was rising and falling heavily under the leather and metal.

Loki didn't really answer me, he just leaned closer to me. "Lady _Anna_ …The _flint_ of my life."

" _Flint_?" I repeated, my hands clawing deep into his clammy hand, not that it did much.

He smiled a little more, and gave a breathy chuckle. "Yes, _flint_...merely a stone. Just like any stone, it can be polished until it shines to be _decorative_...But matched with steel, it can start a blaze."

I paused in my struggling against him, trying to decipher his cryptic, poetic words. "Before...Before, the last time I saw you, you said I had _fire_ within me." I recalled.

"I was mistaken." Loki said simply, pressing the tip of the spear closer to my chest.

"You are the flint, Anna." The spear began to glow. "And _I_ , the steel."

"Together-you and I-we shall watch the world _burn_."

* * *

Omniscient POV

"What makes you so sure I'll say yes?" Steve asked Fury, sitting down to unwrap his hands. He was stalling, really. Anna told him to just lay low for two or three days until she got back. He knew who Director Nick Fury was the moment he walked into the gym; Anna showed him his picture. Steve was pretty sure if _he_ was here, he wasn't interested in his right cross. Well, maybe he was, in a round-about way.

Fury held a file out to him. "Your friend?—Anna Brightman? She's been compromised."

Steve stopped, and looked up at the bald man with the eye patch. " _Compromised_." He repeated, taking the file. "Anna wouldn't flip."

"She did," Fury said simply. "Killed seven of the best agent's I've ever seen."

"Anna wouldn't flip," Steve said again, more firm. He zipped his bag shut and stood; he had a good two inches on the director. "I don't care if it's been almost 70 years; _she wouldn't turn traitor_."

"I never said she flipped on her own free will." Fury pointed out.

* * *

Anna was leading new people towards their new posts.

"If any of them express doubt; shoot them." Loki said to her, appearing over her shoulder. Not that she showed it, but him suddenly over her shoulder like that surprised her.

"You know what I _usually_ do when people scare me like that?" She asked him, turning her chin so she could see Loki. She had a calm half-smirk on her lips and a playful look in her eyes—her crystalline blue eyes.

Loki's eyes narrowed, and grabbed her shoulder to roughly turn her around. Anna's own eyes narrowed as she looked up at Loki. He loomed over her, and when his hand shot up to grip her jaw, Anna's hands moved swiftly; she grabbed one of the daggers in his vest and held it to his own throat.

Loki smirked down at the blonde, and focused his magic through Anna's skin. His smirk grew as he saw her deep, golden brown eyes bleed through the blue. The crystalline blue remained around her irises, but the soulful brown had returned. " _Much_ better." Loki said lowly, making Anna smirk slightly.

Swiftly, Loki dropped her chin and used two cool fingers to pick up the chain around her neck. He slowly pulled on it until the two bulky pendants hung out of Anna's shirt. Loki examined the metal ovals that hung from it; one on a separate smaller chain that hung lower. The hand still holding the staff let it go, and it floated to a table off to the side.

"James Buchanan Barnes." Loki read off, his fingers brushing over the raised letters. "Your lover?" He questioned.

Anna, with a quick flick of her wrist, flung the dagger into a crack on the cement above them. She'd told Loki about an abandoned Cold War bunker in Maine built for diplomates and rich people; the perfect place to be undisturbed.

"Used to be." She said calmly, taking the dog tags from Loki's fingers and tucking them back in her shirt. "Not really anything _you_ need to know, is it?" She asked him, raising an eyebrow slightly.

"Perhaps not." Loki reasoned, holding his arms behind his back. "Tell me, Lady Anna; was he the man who made you see you were destined for such greatness?"

"Yeah, he was." Anna told him, straightening her shoulders and tipping her chin up.

"A man who can make such a determined, strong woman as yourself see differently than her own beliefs deserves to be rewarded." Loki told her, straightening his shoulders. "Where can I find him?"

"At the bottom of a ravine in Europe." Anna answered calmly. Loki's eyebrow curved up. "He's _dead_." Anna added on. "A reward would be _pointless_."

The two just stared at each other.

Anna looked up an Loki, her master, with an obedient, blank stare. She was ready to carry out whatever orders he gave her.

Loki's stare was much more interesting; he looked positively _captivated_ by the woman in front of him.

* * *

"Hey." Clint said, nudging Anna's side with his elbow, gaining her attention. He nodded towards Loki, who was sitting off to the side on some steps with a pained look on his face. "What's wrong with him?"

"No idea." Anna replied, her brow furrowed with worry. She hopped a rail that surrounded a lower portion of the bunker on her way towards her master; it was her duty to make sure he was at his best mental and physical ability.

She sat next to him, and slowly reached towards him.

Loki gave a sharp gasp and jerked out of the trance he was in, his hand grabbing Anna's in a crushing, vice-like grip. Anna, not wanting to startle him, put a hand on Loki's chest. The scepter fell to the ground with a clang as the god grabbed the second hand and yanked the body connected to it to the left, slamming Anna into the wall.

Master or not, Anna retaliated. She kneed Loki in the stomach, and used all her weight to force him on his back. Straddling his lean torso, Anna gave him a hard slap in the face, which forced his mind to return to reality.

Breathing heavily, Loki looked up at Anna, who had one hand on his upper chest, the other forcing his hand down.

"If I let you up, think you can try and keep all your marbles in that big smart brain of your's?" Anna asked him, raising an eyebrow.

After regaining his surroundings, Loki looked back at Anna and chuckled lightly. "Where exactly did you learn to leave a god powerless, my dear?"

Anna rolled her eyes as she got off her master, shaking her head. "I picked up a few tricks over the years." She told him smoothly, brushing her jeans off as she looked down at Loki, who was propping himself up on his elbows, watching her.

Anna squatted down next to him, her elbows on her knees. "What's wrong?" She asked in a softer tone.

Loki sat up quickly, changing the distance between their faces from two feet to barely two inches.

"Do you know how often I wished you were in Asgard?" Loki asked her. The two expert liars seemed to challenge each other, seeing who could keep their face casual and impassive for the longest.

"No, I don't...Why would you want me there?" She asked him.

Loki slowly stood up, and picked the septor up from the floor. He held his hand out for Anna to take, which she didn't. She just put her hands behind her back and prepared to follow him. Chuckling lowly, Loki shook his head and returned to the steps.

"How... _aware_ are you of what's happened to me?" Loki asked once Anna was sitting next to him.

"The basics." Anna said with a shrug, then a mildly playful look crossed her face. "You clearly had a _very_ unhappy childhood." With one corner of his mouth turned up in a weak smirk, Loki looked down at the scepter in his hand.

"I have been captive since infancy, of Odin, of Thanos." Loki trailed off briefly before he looked back at the blonde next to him.

"My heart is ice, my dear," Loki explained with a small, sad smile. "It has been from birth. It has been shattered by the Allfather and my 'brother.' Crushed beyond repair with fake love that they assumed would be enough."

Anna hid the empathy she felt growing inside her, and raised an eyebrow, urging him to continue.

"They hid the monster I am my whole life," he continued.

"I've met plenty of monsters." Anna commented, completely relaxed. " _You're_ not one."

" _I am._ " Loki insisted, his voice low and commanding.

Anna leaned forward, towards her master. " _Prove it._ "

It was silent between the two, as Loki's gaze scanned the area around them for prying eyes. When he looked back at Anna, she saw a distinct blue/gray begin to bleed over his pale, flawless skin. As the blue overtook the white, shapes and patterns began etching themselves into his skin. His blue/gray eyes, nearly the same shade as his skin was turning, turned bloody red, and his round pupil elongated.

Loki's jaw clenched as he awaited Anna's response. Slowly, the blonde's head turned slightly, causing some wave hair to fall out from behind her ear. "I still don't see a monster."

"The Jötnar are the monsters Æsir children cower from." Loki said, staring down at his hands.

Anna frowned at her master's clear distaste for himself; she took action. She raised her hand to his face, and placed her palm on Loki's cool, rough skin. His red eyes snapped from his blue/gray hands, marred with shapes and patterns he found no meaning in, to the woman next to him. Anna's thumb stroked his cheekbone, and Loki leaned into her hand briefly, his eyes closing again.

"My Midgardian angel," he breathed, sending cool air down Anna's wrist. "A beautiful creature you are, my pet...Far more fair than Freya, more kind than Iduna, more brave than Sif...I only grow more sure of my choice for my future queen."

"Future queen?" Anna repeated, chuckling a little.

"You will want for nothing," Loki began explaining, taking Anna's hand in his as his Æsir skin returned. "You will have an army," he continued, smiling. "They shall be yours, and _yours alone_ to command."

One side of Anna's mouth tipped up. "Doesn't sound _so_ bad."

"What of you, my dear?" He asked, turning more towards the woman next to him. "No measure of strength or fight can hide the pain within you."

Anna shrugged and leaned back on her hands. "My story isn't all that different from yours." She told him honestly. "But, you know, without the realms, gods 'n stuff." She chuckled a little at the end.

"Tell me." Loki pressed. Anna grew visibly uncomfortable and clenched her jaw. "Tell me, my little human, who had wronged you? Who has given you scars I can not heal?"

Anna remained scilent.

" _Tell me_." He said again, and Anna tipped her chin up.

Temper flaring, Loki tossed the scepter in the air, letting it hover in the air in easy reach. With his face twisted in frustration and anger, he seized Anna's face with both hands and yanked her closer as his magic wound through the inner workings of her mind.

As decades of memories flashed before her and Loki, Anna's eyes shut tight and her mouth fell open with a soft sob. The anger faded from the gods face as the faces of people, Anna's loved ones, her victims, her lost causes and innocents were brought forth.

When his hold on her mind was released, Loki let the blonde collide with his chest. She was breathing heavily and trying not to sob. Anna quickly pushed herself away from her master, her hands in her hair.

She looked at Loki in what he could only interpret as confusion and disbeleif; Anna's twisted mind couldn't understand how her master, the man who would guide the world into a better tomarrow, could make her feel so much pain. She turned on a heel and swiftly left.

Taking the scepter, Loki also stood, watching Anna as she walked away.

Clint had only seen Anna cry twice; the one time he was with her on the anniversary of Bucky's death, and when they were in Tibet.

"Hey, you alright?" Clint asked, grabbing her upper arm as she passed. Anna yanked her arm out of Clint's; her eyes were red, her bottom lip was quivering, and her hands were in shaking fists at her side.

"What'd he do?" Clint asked; it took a _lot_ to get Anna so upset.

"He-He saw everything," she answered through clenched teeth as she leaned on a table, her head bowing forward. "And-And I saw everything... _again_."

Clint sighed and put a hand on Anna's shoulder, squeezing tight.

* * *

"I'm planning a heist, and you're playing dress-up." Anna heard Clint drawl from a few feet behind her. Loki had brought Anna to a large rack of expensive, fancy gowns and told her to choose one. They needed iriduim for Erik; Clint was actually going to get it, Anna and Loki were going to get the 'key'.

"Hey, do you know where my gun is right now? I'll trade with you in a _heartbeat_." She said. "Zip me up?"

Clint zipped the zipper of the red, lacy dress. Anna spun around, put her hands on her cocked hips and looked at the archer expectantly. "Well? What do you think?" She asked him.

"Kinda makes your butt look big." Clint pointed out casually.

Anna rolled her eyes. Instead of arguing that her butt _did not_ in fact look big, Anna went behind the rack of clothes and looked for a different dress.

"Loki asked me about Bucky." Clint said a moment later.

At the mention of her deceased beau, Anna's Wehands stopped pushing the dresses around on the racks.

"Told him everything. Well, everything _I know_." Clint continued casually.

Anna's head started to throb; she pressed the heel of her hand to her temple as Clint kept talking.

"Told him how you met in the camp in New Jersey…Met up again after Italy."

Flashes of Bucky's face, looking up at her as she drew his blood flickered in Anna's mind. His drowsy talk of dancing.

"You two were pretty happy 'till Dieter came into the picture."

Anna remembered hazy wakeups in the hospital in France; Bucky snug against her and his jacket over her. She remembered him pleading for her to say something— _anything_. When vivid memories of her telling him she loved him, Anna winced in pain. She stumbled backwards when she remembered him grabbing her from Howard when they broke her out of the compound in the Netherlands; the prayers and how many times he thanked God for bringing her back to him. The way he'd play with the zipper along the back of her dress or on the side of her skirt when he thought no one was looking.

"Then, you know, he _died_."

Anna stumbled into the rack of clothes, and she heard Clint ask if she was alright. Unmoving, Anna slowly looked over and Clint, who had a hand on her shoulder. Although the archer was usually stoic (unless the expression was sarcasm), he was clearly worried about her, and it showed her in his wide eyes.

"What-What's wrong with your _eyes_?" Anna asked him, her voice quiet and her mind hazy.

Clint's eyes were usually an odd shade of gray that sometimes looked green or blue in the right light. Now, they were an odd, _startling_ blue that was completely unnatural.

Frowning at the question, Clint's brows rose up a little. "What do you mean?"

"They're-They're not gray like they're supposed to be." Anna said weakly, grabbing her temples as she tried to stand up. She ended up falling to the ground.

"Anna!" Clint half-yelled, throwing the tablet he was holding to the side and shoving the garment bags aside so he could go through the rack.

"Hey! Hey, _Anna_?" Clint called, gently shaking her shoulders as she gazed lazily around.

" _Move_!" A voice bellowed, and Clint quickly moved away from his friend, and let Loki, his master, crouch by Anna's side.

When Anna's eyes locked onto Loki, she gasped and began struggling to stand up and get away from him. The two struggled for a what seemed like hours, and when Anna got the upper hand, by elbowing Loki in the temple, she managed to get her hands on a gun. As she struggled to push the clip in, she looked towards Clint; a man she trusted with her life just _stood there_ , motionless and emotionless, as she tried to snap the clip in the gun.

Loki grabbed Anna's hair and threw her to the wallAnna had fought through much worse. A few years ago in China she was beaten, had two bullets in her, had gone through two explosions, and still managed to take out seven armed hostiles with a two foot section of copper pipe.

Among other things, as Loki wrapped his hand around her throat, she felt _weak_.

The scepter glowed as it was pressed to Anna's chest. Her eyes rolled back in her skull and she fell forwards; unconscious.

Loki caught her easily and slowly fell to his knees, holding Anna. Her back was against his thighs, and his arms were cradling her head and shoulders. He raised a hand to her face, and as he stroked from her cheekbone to her chin, a flicker of green light washed over Anna's face, healing the wound he cause at the back of her head.

Everyone was looking at Loki, their master, on his knees with a girl in his arms; _shocked_.

He snapped his head up when someone cleared their throat. His sharp glare made everyone take a step back.

" _Leave us_!" Loki roared. When he and the unconscious Anna were alone, he closed his eyes briefly, pressing his forehead to hers.

"I am sorry, my dear," Loki breathed before placing a lingering kiss on Anna's forehead.

* * *

 **Well, that's a whooper of a chapter, huh?**

 **I'm sorry to say that I won't be updating this story until I uptade my other story on here, Reincarnated, and another story I have on a different site. I'm thinking my next update will be around Friday.**

 **Also, side note, I have some pretty intence backstories for how Anna got to know Clint, Natasha and Phil Coulson, as well as some OCs that will play an important role and soem others that I'm putting in just for fun. (The flashbacks about Anna's falling out with Howard WILL be in here soon.)**

 **Would you like to see these spread out like the Howard/Anna situation? Or would you like them to be stand-alone chapters inbetween the main-plot?**

 **Well, that's all for now. If any of you cupcakes have any questions for me, feel free to message me! ;)**

 **~Christianne**

 **PS~ I'd say anout 80% of the really poetic stuff Loki says isn't from my own brain; I get them from pictures I think are madde by someone who uses the tumblr handle lokis-dirty-whispers .**


	4. Chapter 4: There are Always Men Like You

Omniscient POV

"I think I'd rather go with Clint," Anna sighed, reaching up to fix a wavy strand of hair.

"I am going to assume you mean you'd prefer the _actions_ to the _company_." Loki sighed, tipping his chin up to allow Anna to adjust his tie.

Anna just giggled and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, _of course_ you would."

Once she fixed his tie, she smoothed the lapels of his cashmere jacket, and evened out the scarf around his neck.

"There," she said, looking up at her master. " _Very_ handsome."

Loki chuckled softly, and let his hand rest on her bare hip. He absolutely _adored_ the dress she chose to wear. It was raven black, and had a long skirt that was snug to her legs and flared out at her calves. It had long fitted sleeves and a high neck that just covered her graceful collar bones. It was at the waist that it appealed to Loki. The dark fabric was cut away at her hips, leaving two large diamonds of flawless skin showing. At her midriff, the only covering it had was the inch and a half zipper along her spine, and the strip of fabric that covered her navel was more narrow than his palm.

She looked like a queen; _his_ queen.

Using the grip on her hip, Loki turned Anna so she could see her reflection in the mirror of the bunker. She was almost as tall as him; she was level with his cheekbones. At the bottom of the skirt, the toes of high emerald shoes (Anna refereed to them as _stilettos_ ) showed. She'd been given black ones, but demanded green. Before, as she was slipping them on, Loki asked her about them. She just gave him a coy smile, sat up, sighed and said nothing else.

"A man as handsome as you claim I am is still no comparison to you, _darling_."

Anna abruptly spin around, staring up at Loki with cold eyes. "Call me _dear_ , call me _pet_ , call me _whatever you want_ ," she said harshly, glaring up at her master. "But _do not,_ call me, _darling_."

Loki just chuckled, and shook his head. "Come, _my dear_ ," he said, saying the last few words dramatically, as he lead Anna to the airplane that Clint was going to pilot.

"You still haven't told me where we're going." Anna pointed out as she walked to the plane.

"Stuttgart," Loki said once they settled into the seats.

"Germany," Anna said, smoothing the skirt over her knees. "What do we need there, _specifically_?"

Loki looked at the woman across from him; her wavy golden hair, her smooth skin, and her soulful brown eyes. As hard as Loki tried, he could not completely rid them of the crystalline blue from the scepter. He hoped one day to see them once again unmarred by the power of the scepter.

"Erik needs iridium," Loki said, taking a device from his jacket. "To obtain it, Barton needs an eye." He flicked his wrist, and three prongs came out of the device. He flicked his wrist again and the prongs closed. "You and I, my dear, are going to _obtain_ the eye."

Anna smiled and looked up from her nails. "Sounds like fun."

* * *

"Beautiful architecture," Anna commented, her hand in the crook of Loki's arm as they descended the stairs.

"Quite different from Asgard...Though I can see its appeal." Loki admitted honestly, before swinging his scepter, appearing as a cane, at the head of a security guard.

"Keep the crowd at bay." He ordered, Anna nodded and turned her attention to the crowd as Loki grabbed the man they came for and slammed him to a stone sculpture in the center of the room.

It didn't take her long to realize there _was_ no crowd; they all ran. Loki looked at me with a slowly growing grin. Anna smiled back at him instinctively, not even flinching when blood spattered over his face.

Once the eye was scanned, Loki shoved the man's unconscious body off the statue, and threw the bloody device to the side. "The very fact that you do not fear me is both the most _maddening_ , and the most _alluring_ thing about you."

Anna just smiled, and watched as Loki stepped up onto the statue, over the man's body and hopped down to Anna. He stood close to her, closer than he ever had, and narrowed his eyes at her.

"A girl who doesn't run from monsters," he breathed.

"I don't see any monsters to run from." Anna said back.

So swift she almost didn't see it, Loki grabbed a fistful of Anna's curls and pressed a cool, hard kiss to her lips. As it ended, Loki stared back at Anna. She had remained completely motionless through the kiss.

"It is my understanding, that if humans find a kiss _enjoyable_ , there is more... ** _grabbing_**." The god said, still holding onto Anna's hair.

She just blinked up at him. "If you wanted me to _enjoy it_ , you should have _told me to_."

Her simple answer made Loki's eyes fall shut. He pulled Anna close, pressing his lips to her hairline. He stayed like that for a few seconds, and Anna remained motionless.

Letting her go, Loki grinned at her. "Come, my dear. We have subjects to address."

As they walked to the door, Loki's cashmere coat and scarf morphed into his Asgardian armor, the cane returned to the scepter. The leather and metal suited him well, and the large, golden helmet on his head was better than any crown in Anna's eyes. She followed several paces behind him.

She raised her eyebrows when he shot a blue beam out of the scepter at an oncoming police car. Anna was still several steps behind him, and watched in well-hidden awe as multiple Lokis flickered into view, surrounding the crowd.

"Kneel before me," Loki called out in a loud, clear voice. The crowd was too panicked to do anything.

"I said... _ **KNEEL**_!" Loki bellowed, raising the scepter up, slamming down and making the clones scepters flash blue as well. The terrified people fell to their knees, looking at the man in the odd clothes and horned helmet.

Loki smiled, and raised one arm out. He used the other to grab Anna's waist and pull her towards him until she was plastered to his side. She greedily wound her arms around him and gripped his armor tight. Her eyes watched his face; masculine, but still elegant, line of his jaw, the pale, smooth lines of his lips, and the sharp cheek bones that Anna was _sure_ could cut glass.

"Is not this simpler?" Loki asked the kneeling people, the hand around Anna's waist left to brush her hairline. Green light swirled around her hair and forehead, and an intricately made gold diadem came to rest on Anna's forehead. Gold metal held small white stones, and twisted them into swirls; several large green gems hung among them.

"Now you look like the queen you are," Loki breathed, his hand returning to her bare side.

" _Enjoy this_."

He leaned halfway and Anna threw her arms around his neck, grabbing at the hair exposed under his helmet. She arched her chest to his, and groaned softly. Loki had to grab the hair at the back of her head to get her to pull away.

"I shall return, my queen." He assured her when she pouted at him.

Leaving his queen at the raised street walk, Loki began to walk amongst the kneeling people. "Is this not you natural state?"

"It is the unspoken truth or humanity- that you _crave_ subjugation. The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life's joy in a mad scramble for power, identity. You were made to be ruled. In the end, you will _always_ kneel." Loki said as he walked amongst the kneeling people— _his_ kneeling people.

An older German man slowly rose up from the ground and looked at Loki. "Not to men like you." He said firmly.

"There are no men like me." Loki said with a grin. Anna felt a proud smile spread across her lips.

"There are _always_ men like you," the man said. Images of Anna's first few trips to Germany flashed in her mind. This was the type of man she could sit with at a cafe and talk to for hours.

"Look to your elder, people," Loki said as he lifted the scepter, it began to glow blue. Anna almost called for Loki to stop, to not harm the man; _almost_.

"Let him be an example."

As he shot the man, but the beam was reflected off a red white and blue shield. Anna inhaled sharply; the _one man_ she knew who could _possibly_ match her master's skill was _Steve Rogers_. She rushed to Loki, the blast had hit him.

Steve, clad in his new uniform, raised up from his crouched position. He saw Anna standing only a hundred or so yards away from him, but zeroed his focus back on the man who managed to turn _the most loyal girl_ _he knew_.

"You know, the last time I was in Germany, I saw a man standing above everybody else." Captain America said as he took a few steps towards Loki. "We ended up disagreeing."

Loki scoffed. "Your soldier," he chuckled, batting Anna's hands away as he stood up by help of his scepter, which was currently a staff taller than him. "The man out of time."

Anna stood by Loki's side, waiting for an order to take action. She knew how Steve fought; he had strength on his side. But Anna knew how to counter _every move he made_.

"I'm not the one who's out of time," the Captain responded. A S.H.I.E.L.D. plane came to hover above the courtyard. A large caliber gun fell out of the bottom, and zeroed in on Loki.

"Loki," Natasha Romanoff's ordered over a speaker. "Drop the weapon and stand down."

Loki show a beam of blue light at the plane, narrowly missing it. At the same time, Anna ran for Captain America; the man she helped make into the man he was today. Loki threw a dagger towards the man, trying to buy Anna time. It didn't even get her a second.

The captain threw a hard punch at the god, which began a staff/shield fight between the two. A hard hit sent the Captain sliding backwards. He tried to use the distance to his advantage, and flung his shield at Loki, who carelessly deflected it with the staff.

About a hundred yards away from the fighting superhumans, Anna was on her back, panting, and had a throbbing headache.

She wasted no time in yelling for people to get up and leave. It was barely six minutes after she came out from under Loki's control, and the courtyard was empty; no more civilian casualties.

Captain America was being flung around like a rag doll, and as he began to get up, the sharp blade of Loki's scepter came to rest at his neck.

" _Kneel_." Loki ordered.

" _Not today_." Captain America grunted as he grabbed the scepter, yanked it to the side to stand up, which was followed by a swift roundhouse kick to the face.

Anna tried to get closer and help, but there was _so much pain_ in _so many parts of her body_ she could barely think straight. She could practically feel her adrenaline levels rising as she saw and heard Captain America— _Steve_ —being beaten to a pulp. She eyed his shield a few yards away.

Her gaze snapped to the sky just in time to see a red streak shoot a beam that sent Loki sliding backwards. Iron Man landed a few feet in front of Loki, and took a battle ready stance, miniature missiles and all.

"Make your move Reindeer Games." Tony, slightly robotic, voice said to Loki, who had managed to get to his feet. He slowly put his hands up, and his armor and helmet faded away.

"Mr. Stark," Captain America greeted, wiping a little blood off his lip.

"Cap'n," Iron Man said in return, with a slight head nod.

They didn't see the green light coming from Loki's palms.

Both men were startled as they heard a metallic clang.

Anna had found Steve's shield, and, holding one side, swung it up to hit the back of Loki's head, and that was soon followed by a smack in the chin from the vibranium disk. She stomped on his calf (while wearing some green stilettos) and got him on his back. Anna raised the shield up, and threw it down on Loki's torso. It bounced off the god, and its owner caught it smoothly.

Breathing heavily, Anna looked away from the god, and up at the two gaping (she could only _assume_ Tony was gaping under the faceplate) men.

"Who's the chick?" Tony Stark's automatic-sounding tone.

"Anna." Steve said simply.

The blonde gave a weak, wry smile.

"Hi Anna," Tony's robotic voice said in the same tone. "You know, you have a knife sticking out of your side."

Frowning, Anna looked down.

Sure enough, there was a bloody, silver blade sticking out of Anna's upper ribcage.

"Well _damnit_." She sighed. Then she collapsed.

* * *

 **Hm...I still don't think I have anything to say here...**

 **Hope you enjoyed the chapter!**

 **~Christianne**


	5. Chapter 5: The Last Valkyrie

Anna POV

 **May 30, 1973**

 **1:00 am**

"Ow _!" I yelped, glaring at Howard. "Kára didn't teach you a_ thing _, did she?" I accused him as he roughly pushed gauze against my bullet wound._

 _I'd been avoiding Howard all night; I made sure all the people had directions home, oversaw the take-down of the structures in the yard, took a shower and was about to get a glass of wine before Howard cornered me in my room._

 _I was now sitting on my desk with my pajama pants hiked up so Howard could help me clean up the wound there._

 _I got a steel eyed look from Howard as he finished taping up my wound._

 _He fell back in the desk chair and sighed, scrubbing his face with his hand. He left a little bloody streak. "How many is that now?"_

" _Bullets or stab wounds?" I asked, not looking at him. I pulled the leg of my pj pants back down, and took a drink of my wine._

" _ **Anna**_ _."_

 _I took another long drink. "Seventeen."_

 _Howard leaned forward and took a drink from his glass of bourbon. Howard had a rule; he didn't drink around Tony. That's the only reason he was drinking now; Tony had been in bed for hours. "Get any more and you'll leak water like a colander." He muttered._

 _I rolled my eyes and nudged his knee with my foot._

" _Hey, the more they poke me the more I bite back." I said with a smirk._

" _I think you should dial it back." Howard said as he pressed his cold glass to his temple. I looked at him with silent shock until he spoke again. "One'a these days you're gonna get seriously hurt...I don't wanna explain to Tony why his Abie isn't gonna be here for his next birthday."_

" _I'll retire some day." I said, spinning the glass in my hand. "You have my word."_

" _You gave Tony your word you'd be there when he finished his project." Howard reminded me._

" _Don't." I said softly; I felt bad enough already about disappointing Tony._

" _You don't even have to stop all together; just in Vietnam." Howard continued._

" _That's where I'm needed, Howard." I said flatly. "There-There are thousands of young men dying."_

" _What are their names?" Howard asked me._

 _I knew what he was talking about; in Korea I went a little overboard in saving a captured private. He was tall dark and handsome, and the nurse he called his was a quick witted blonde. I got shot twice and men died. After that, I was told I got a little too invested in military couples._

" _Wyatt and Carla." I said after a moment._

" _We brought him back," I said, starting to tell the story. "He was in rough shape, but he was alive. Carla went into town, went to a dishonest butcher and died three days later from salmonella."_

 _The two of us sat in heavy silence for a long time._

" _Then...Two days ago I saw Wyatt put the end of his pistol in his mouth." I said slowly, tipping the rest of my wine back._

" _I'm-"_

" _Howard I'm not going to stop." I cut him off._

 _I looked down at my best friend. When I met him the summer of 1941, he had the overdeveloped brain of a genius and the attitude to match the king of the world; all with a head of thick, glossy black hair. That was 30 years ago. He was in his early 50s now; the genius was still there, but the attitude had mellowed, and his hair was no longer thick, and was growing more silver every day._

 _It hurt me; seeing him like that when I was still physically 25. I could jump over creates, run a mile in under seven minutes and, after years of trying to break Peggy's record, do 110 one-armed push-ups (I won $150 off some Marines with that one). I had no problem going on 50 mile hikes, doing military drills or carrying 30 pounds of equipment._

 _Howard sometimes had a hard time getting up from his chair._

 _He just nodded at me, still holding his glass to his head; his eyes closed._

 _Howard finally said in a mumbled, slow voice. "You have to stop...or..."_

" _Or, I'm going to get myself killed, right?" I chuckled, slipping off the desk to refill my glass from the bottle on the tray Jarvis brought in before I got out of the shower._

 _When Howard spoke again, the empty glass slid from my fingers to the hardwood floor, where it shattered into a million pieces._

" _ **Or you can't be around Tony anymore.**_ _"_

* * *

I rubbed my eye with the heel of one hand, and held the ice pack to the back of my head with the other. I was wearing a standard issue S.H.I.E.L.D. suit in gunmetal gray, with the top half tied off at my waist, and a tight, soft gray tank top. I had a stiff, thick bandage over my stab wound. The damn dagger must have ricocheted off Steve's shield after Loki threw it.

I brought my hand down from my face, and focused on the silver knife I had in my fingers.

"Fury let you keep that?" Phil asked. I glanced over at him; I hadn't heard him fall into step with me.

"Fury won't let me apply to be an agent." I sighed, examining the dagger. "So why should I listen to what he tells me _to do_ and _not to do_?"

Phil gave me a look.

"Besides. That crazy bastard stabbed me with it." I tacked on. "It'd be a crime if I _didn't_ keep it."

" _Annie_ ," I heard Steve say once we got to the main platform. I didn't even have time to roll my eyes before I had a hand on my shoulder. "You should be resting."

"I'm _fine_ Steve." I insisted, pressing my free hand to my side as I walked to the table.

"An-"

"Steve, in 1981 I was in Russia with an inch and a half of a knife broken off between my ribs, three fractures in my foot and a severe concussion, and I _still_ managed to stuff myself into a dress and heels to go to an underground KGB meeting to knock three members off the board." Steve stared back at me in shock as I spoke. " _And_ I still stopped off in London for fish and chips on the way back home. _I'm fine_."

I brushed past Steve and fell into the chair. I put the knife away, and switched hands that held the ice pack.

"So...You assassinated three men at an underground KGB meeting in 1981," Natasha said from her spot standing behind me.

"I am _so_ **not** having that conversation with you right now, Tasha." I said, closing my eyes. I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes.

"I hope my brother did not inflict serious wounds, Lady Anna." Thor said. I opened one eye at him and frowned.

"When'd you get here?" I mumbled.

"You know him?" Steve asked, leaning towards me a little.

"Yeah...Yeah, met him back in '44." I said, closing my eyes. "I'll explain later." I tacked on; I could just hear his confused, questioning look. I'd been getting it a lot lately.

"Despite the circumstances, it is good to see you again, Lady Anna." Thor said, making me, yet again, open my eyes. The god had a small, happy grin on his face. "The years have treated you well."

My gaze snapped towards him and my jaw clenched. " _What?_ "

"You might wanna take a step back." I heard Natasha say lowly.

I slowly rose from my chair and walked until I was only inches from Thor's chest. "You are _so_ lucky I don't have my gun." I said in a low, threatening voice. From what I've heard, the god would have laughed at the statement. I must be more threatening than I thought, because all he did in response was raise his eyebrows.

I spun on a heel, and saw a new face in the room. "Dr. Banner!" I said, smiling as I approached the dark haired man off to the side.

"You're...You're Dr. Brightman," he said, his brows furrowing slightly.

"Call me Anna," I said, holding my hand out, the other still held the ice pack. "It's an honor, really. Your work is absolutely _astounding_."

"I could say the same about yours." Dr. Banner said, glancing towards the table (at _Steve_ ), and after a moment of hesitation, he gave my hand a brief shake. "It-It's an honor." He added.

I gave him a smile and a slight shrug. "We have to compare notes sometime," I told him, lightly squeezing his forearm before I walked back to Steve. I was about to tell him a little about Russia, when I heard a familiar voice.

I ran towards the hall it came from, and grabbed my friend by the arm.

"Kára— _Kára_ you shouldn't be here!" I hissed at my blonde friend.

"Oh _please_ , I'm more than acquainted with-" Kára stopped speaking abruptly, and Thor stood up from the railing he was leaning on to his full height.

The two stared at one another for a good thirty seconds. Then Thor held his hand out to catch his hammer. In the split second he looked away, Kára took off running. Thor barreled after her once the heavy hammer was in his hand.

" _Damnit_!" I huffed, throwing my ice pack on the table.

"Steve!" I called, getting his attention. " _Do not_ leave her side!" I yelled, pointing at Ellie. With that, I ran after the _Æsirs_.

When I caught up to them, Kára was on the platform of the helicarrier and with Thor was only a few yards behind her.

" _Will you survive the fall, Valkyrie?_ " He yelled over the wind.

" _I already survived one fall!_ " Kára yelled back, inching towards the edge. " _Don't see why I won't survive another!_ "

" _Kára_!" I yelled into the wind, making both blonds look at me. " _Get your ass back inside!_ "

" _Why? So he can crush my skull with his hammer?_ " She yelled back at me, inching still towards the edge of the helicarrier.

" _Do you promise not to crush her skull with a hammer?_ " I yelled to Thor, glaring at him like he was another KGB agent.

The god looked at me in disbelief. Again, I think I'm more intimidating than I thought, because he only nodded.

" _Get. **In**_." I yelled, pointing to the helicarrier.

Once Thor was inside, Kára stepped away from the edge.

"You-...You wouldn't really have jumped, would you?" Ellie asked as Kára and I walked past her.

"Stay with Steve." Kára muttered, walking with me to one of the labs.

* * *

Omniscient POV

 **1009 A.D.**

 _Thor let out an unnecessary grunt as threw the small woman onto the floor of the cell._

 _Kára caught herself just before her face hit the rough floor. She glared over her shoulder._

 _"Oh, Thor," she said as she stood up, brushing off her knees. Kára was only a few feet from the prince as she spoke. "Where is the man who held ArnÞórr off a bridge for his unwarranted advances?"_

 _The blond prince said nothing as he slammed the barred door. He turned to leave; his red cape fluttering behind him as he walked._

 _"You best remember!" Kára called to him uselessly, trying not to betray how scared and betrayed she felt. "You are imprisoning a **friend**!"_

 _She wasn't in the stark clean, magic-bound cells of the dungeon for two reasons; though she was a prisoner, her safety was extremely important, and she could, if she wanted to, collapse the cell in on itself and simply walk out._

 _The power of a Valkyrie was never to be underestimated. The beautiful winged women looked unassuming and dainty, even while wielding shields and spears. But they had power (especially Kára) that could annihilate whatever stood in their path. That's why she was in a tiny cell in the base of the castle; millions of tons of rock on every side of her._

 _Kára had no choice, but to sit on the small cot they provided for her and wait for someone to visit her._

 _Her older sister, Brunehilde, sometimes came by. She was the only Valkyrie who wasn't appalled by what she had done._

 _It had been decided by the highest council that the Valkyries were having a larger impact on Earth that what was expected when the first faction was created during the first Asgardian war; to take the worthy warriors to the halls of Valhalla. The banishment to Asgard had been catastrophic to the Valkyries. They were made of stars and galaxies. One thousand brave and worthy men gave their lives so one Valkyrie could be born. It is ingrained deep within each of them that they owe the warriors of all nine realms a debt; those who Valkyries choose to serve at the feast halls of Valhalla are there by birthright; just as the Norns have put deep in the Valkyries' thread their purpose._

 _The All Father had Kára's complete and total devotion, but the obligation to the men worthy of an eternal feat was too great to ignore. Brunhilde said her lack of control was due to her being so young; she wasn't even 900, centuries younger than any other Valkyrie._

 _Her fleeting control and self-preservation led her to seek out Loki; there were rumors that he knew of secret ways to leave Asgard. It took nearly one hundred years to gain Loki's trust. By the end of the century, he not only showed her the passages-he had gained a close friend. Brunhilde didn't approve of the friendship, but for a while it kept her from doing anything reckless._

 _Loki was another who visited now and then. He brought her clean gowns, a book now and then, and sat on the floor outside her cell (while Kara leaned against the bars) and told her what she was missing. Sometimes it wasn't actually him who came to see her, but rather one of his projections. Kára hadn't told a soul that Loki was the one to help her in and out of Asgard; if she did, she wouldn't have spent a moment in the cell. But she knew that under the kind, mischievous exterior to the prince, there was a darkness that would one day threaten her. When that darkness was let free, she didn't want to stand against him._

 _"Kára!"_

 _The Valkyrie, startled, jolted up and let her wings free. She hissed in pain as the strong feather extremities scraped along the walls of the cell. It wasn't the first time this had happened; there were raw, scabbed, bleeding red spots along the sides and edges of her wings. Even when they were folded and hidden from the eyes of others, they caused her great pain._

 _Once she recovered from the shock of pain, she saw Loki at her cell door; a simple blue gown in his hands. His green eyes were worried as he looked at his friend, whom he considered the very epitome of inner strength, curled in on herself as she huddled to the wall._

 _"Yes, my prince?" Kára asked numbly, standing up._

 _Loki rolled his eyes and pushed the gate open; he'd had his magic working on the complicated, reinforced, spellbound lock since he stepped foot in the dungeon. He stepped into the cell and handed Kára the gown. When she didn't take it, he threw it at her and turned his back to her._

 _"Change." He ordered her. Once he heard the sound of rustling cloth, he spoke. "We do not have much time; my father it holding council."_

 _"You can turn around," Kára said, ripping some of the dirty yellow gown she'd changed out of off to tie her long blonde hair back. "The council he's holding; they are the ones who are to choose my fate?"_

 _"It's already been chosen." Loki said, turning to face his friend slowly._

 _" **And**...?" Kára pressed, even though she already knew the answer._

 _Loki said nothing, he just clasped his hands behind him and looked at the floor. "You're sister was distraught." He said lowly; Kára was suddenly out of breath, gasping for air as she sat back on the cot._

 _"No, no sitting," Loki said, grabbing her upper arm and yanking her to her feet. Kára shook her arm out of his grasp, and gave him an annoyed look; he knew how she disliked being touched. Imprisoned or not, Kára was still a Valkyrie; she knew everything going on in a living body that there was to know, and touch only made it more intense. "We don't have much time." He repeated._

 _Kára looked up at her friend in shock. "My-My lord...you-you can't mean-"_

 _Loki chuckled, and began towing the woman out of the cell. "I'm helping you escape, the least you can do it call me my by my proper name."_

 _"Stay close to me." Loki whispered to her when they exited the dungeons, and entered the palace. Kára nodded, and held tightly to his forearm._

 _Somehow, they made it out of the palace undetected._

 _Their horses were waiting for them; Loki's massive black pony with beautifully feathered feet, and Kára's svelte, lean golden horse were being held at the stables. The prince grabbed a scrap of leather, and threw it over Kára's shoulders as a cloak. The two mounted their horses, Kára pulled the cloak over her distinct blonde hair, and they were off._

 _Loki told her the realms were too unstable to use one of the secret entrances; they needed to use the Bifrost. They galloped down the rainbow bridge; Kára fought the urge to look over her shoulder._

 _She was leaving her sister. Kára would never see Brunhilde again if she left._

 _She was so distracted that she didn't see the streak of lightning across the sky. Thor landed with a tremendous noise as his hammer struck the bridge. Both horses reared up and neighed, snorting as they stomped the ground._

 _Loki and Kára stared at Thor, whose face was twisted with rage._

 _"Brother," Loki began calmly, raising a hand, palm down, as if he was trying to calm an animal. "Allow me to explain-"_

 _"What have you to explain?" Thor bellowed. He pointed his hammer towards Kára. "This-This **winged** **whore** has twisted your mind into assisting her rebellion against Odin!"_

 _Kára bit her tongue; Thor's winged whore comment was not only insulting, but **preposterous**._

 _Valkyries must remain **virgins** in order to keep their power; Thor's words stung Kára's heart._

 _"I am in clear mind!" Loki said; his voice raised to compete with Thor's, but still calm. "Brother, you are aware of how captivity in Asgard has affected the Valkyrie faction. The All Father is punishing Kara for following the very instincts we taught her to follow through the nine realms!"_

 _Loki dismounted, but signaled Kára to remain on her horse. He walked towards his brother._

 _"How many times has Kára saved you?" Loki asked, playing on his brother's intense, primal emotions; and it appeared to be working. Thor lowered his hammer and tipped his chin up._

 _"How many friends has she taken to Valhalla, and assured you that they are truly happy in their eternal afterlife?" Loki continued to speak, clasping his hands behind him as he slowly walked around his brother._

 _"She is younger than I, and you...A child in the eyes of Brunhilde. How far much we have fallen to punish a child so harshly?" Loki asked, on Thor's other side now; strategically and unknowingly placing himself between Kára and Thor._

 _Thor said nothing for what felt like an eternity to Kára. The next thing she knew, Mjölnir had collided with her chest, and sent her flying off her horse and onto the bridge. She narrowly managed to spread her wings, slowing herself in the air to allow the hammer to fly on without her._

 _Kára landed on the bridge, ready for battle; her eyes swirled gray, and her fists were ready to let loose lightning and clouds that were evenly matched with Thor's._

 _Not ten seconds after Thor threw his hammer, there was a chorus of high pitched sounds (not unlike that of a plane with supersonic abilities that would be on Midgard centuries later) before eleven women, all with auburn or black hair, carrying shields and spears, landed behind Kára._

 _One woman stood in front of Kára. Her shield was gold, with writing that declared her to be Brunhilde; the leader of the Æsir Valkyries._

 _"Leave us," Thor ordered, glaring at Brunhilde; who simply tipped her chin up at the prince._

 _"Valkyries were not always in the service of the All Father." She said; her voice was throaty and serious. Even the All Father, however rare the event, shied away when she spoke loudly, coldly, and clearly. "We are a rare, powerful people, that offered our service to Æsir people as they conquered and battled those of other realms."_

 _Brunehilde took a step closer, her spear over her shoulder, and her golden, winged helmet under her arm, and her thick, dark auburn hair in and ran down her back. Her wings were the same reddish color as her hair, and currently folded over her shoulders. "But we have become **slaves** ," she said, pushing past Loki to stand before Thor. "We have become soldiers that blindly follow the oppression of a man and his court who are unaware of how **deep** our value of the eternal life of the lives of **worthy** of Valhalla runs through our souls."_

 _"You pledged yourself to Odin." Thor told her in his bellowing voice, opening his hand for his hammer. It slammed to his palm with the signature sound that was feared through the realms. "You obey his rule."_

 _"We obey those who are **worthy**." Brunhilde snarled._

 _Thor, after a moment of shaking rage, raised his hammer and roared as he brought it down. Brunhilde, having watched Thor since he was old enough to pick up a sword, had her shield at the ready and deflected his blow._

 _Æsir soldiers, dressed in gold armor, ran down the bridge towards the Valkyries._

 _They donned their helmets and spread their wings._

 _They had been hearing everything Kára had said; her words opened their eyes. They had forgotten their lineage; a lineage of brave women whose only duty was to the fallen worthy of an eternity other than that of Hel._

 _Kára watched in horror as her sisters fought the brave men they pledged to one day carry to Valhalla. Brunhilde fought Thor, and she was bleeding from her mouth. Kara's wings were open wide; the white, gold-shining wings distracted the soldiers and allowed her fellow Valkyries to fight._

 _Loki grabbed her, and began towing her to the Bifrost._

 _"Himdall, **open it**!" Loki bellowed._

 _The gatekeeper, saying nothing, slowly opened the Bifrost._

 _Thor saw; and roared with rage as he threw his hammer. He hurled it towards Loki at Kára, the latter his target._

 _For the three, time seemed to slow._

 _The Bifrost was still opening, inch by inch, the shimmering, transporting light opened._

 _Thor's hammer turned in the air slowly. It so narrowly missed Loki; one corner left a bloody trail of cut skin on his cheek._

 _Kára stood in front of the open Bifrost, her wings worn and shaking with anticipation._

 _She was unaware of Thor's hammer in the air until it made contact with her wings._

 _Loki screamed her name in a terrified, broken voice._

 _Thor's hammer hit a wall, pinning Kára's beautiful, bloody wings to it. Kára herself was still standing at the Bifrost._

 _When the hammer hit her wings, she'd already had one hand in the light._

 _As it sucked her in, Kára was **screaming**._

 _The Bifrost was looking for a location; but Kára was to in pain to give one. She tumbled through space as she screamed._

 _Her screams were so painful, betrayed, heartbroken and terrified, that it could be heard through the nine realms._

 _The soldiers and Valkyries on the rainbow bridge stopped and looked in horror, some like Brunhilde and Loki fell to their knees. It echoed through Asgard, not one person was spared from the sound._

 _The realm Jotunheim experiences avalanches. Villages were buried and the great beasts that even the Frost Giants feared were taken down by snow and ice._

 _The dry, arid land of Svartalfheim broke open. Elves were swallowed up by their own land._

 _The great trees of Vanaheim fell onto passersby._

 _Nidavellir's ground shook. The pots of molten metal fell to the ground and on the dwarves who worked in the blacksmith shops._

 _The birds flying over Alfheim plummeted to the ground, and dogs hid under tables and beds to try to hide from the terrifying sound._

 _The mighty beasts of Muspelheim cowered from it._

 _The dead souls of Hel screamed in agony._

 _On Midgard, the winds and currents heightened, capsizing ships. The unstable fault line under the large city of San Francisco held the most catastrophic disaster of all; more than 80% of the massive city was destroyed, taking some 4,000 humans with it._

 _Loki fell to his knees, screaming in horror for his friend._

 _Thor was horrified at himself; he knew how Valkyries coveted their wings. His hammer was now soaked in the blood from_ _Kára's, now dull, limp wings._

 _Brunhilde and the other Valkyries, as well as the soldiers, paused. Her sister only grew more enraged, and fought harder._

 _Thor didn't join the fighting behind him. He slowly walked to the wings, and picked his hammer up. The blood on the grip was still warm, and trickled down his wrist. There were some downy feathers in the blood, slowly loosing their pure color and disappearing in the red._

 _Valkyrie blood was a coveted substance. If administered to the injured, and the proper incantation was said, they would be healed at a much faster pace than with out it. There would be bards and sorceresses from all realms coming for just a vial of_ _Kára's blood. None of them would get any; Thor would make sure of it._ _Kára didn't deserve to have people fawning over her wings, only wanting her blood._

 _Loki yelled for Himdell to open the Bifrost and bring_ _Kára back; his eyes were manic as he pled with the gatekeeper to bring his friend back. He didn't tend to his cheek, which had blood steadily streaming from it._

 _"I can not bring_ _Kára back." The gatekeeper declared. "I can not see her."  
_

_-~0O0~-_

 _Kára woke up slowly. She was on the cold, rocky ground. She was in what she would later find out to be a forest in northern Norway._

 _Her back ached; there were open wounds from where her wings once were. She could feel the lack of power in her soul; her wings were her power. She was barely better than a human now._

 _Kára looked down at her hands. On the inside of each finger, there was a mark. Two wings on the base of each finger, and two lines that went down her palm. They symbolized the other Valkyries; one pair of wings for each sister. When one was hurt, or in danger, it burned._

 _Now, all ten were burning._

 _Kára, helpless on the ground, stared at her palms. Suddenly, the pain stopped. She held her breath._

 _One by one, starting at her left thumb, the marks disappeared._

 _Again, Kára screamed._

 _The marks could only mean one thing; they were gone._

 _Her sisters; the only others of her kind, lost against Odin's army, and one by one, they were killed. They were **killed** because she left Asgard to do what they were forbidden from doing._

 _She was **alone**._

 ** _Kára was now the last Valkyrie._**

* * *

 **Well, a lot of questions answered in this one? I hope so...**

 **Next update: Wednesday**

 **~Christianne**


	6. Chapter 6: A Good Man & Paper Birds

Omniscient POV

 **January 1974**

 **9:30 am**

" _Dad?" Tony yelled from his room. He didn't get an answer, so he crawled out of the warm confines of his bed and started to pad around the top floor of his massive house in bare feet._

 _Tony had the flu; his dad told him to stay in bed. His momma was in New York because her sister was having a baby. His dad had been arguing with a man on the phone the night before because he was supposed to be in Seattle for a meeting, but he said he wasn't going to go._

 _"Dad?"_

 _"Dad?"_

 _"Daa-aaad?"_

 _Tony stopped and gave a wet, loud sniff. He'd dragged the duvet off his bed and had it wrapped around his shoulders like a fluffy cape; a cape with little cartoon spaceships on it. He used the sleeve of his Muppets pajamas to wipe his runny nose._

 _His dark eyes narrowed at the steps. The grand staircase always seemed like a feat worthy of a superhero to the four-year-old, but when his head was stuffy and he got dizzy when he stood for too long, it was impossible._

 _"Daa- **aaa** - **aaaaaa** -?" Tony continuously yelled, the yelling broke each time he slid down a step. He'd balled up his duvet under his butt and was sliding down the shiny wooden stairs._

 _He landed on the floor of the foyer with a quiet 'oof!'_

 _" **Dad**?" Tony yelled again, sitting in the little nest of his duvet on the floor. He sniffed again, and let out a little cough after it._

 _Getting to his feet, Tony began to trek around the first floor, yelling for his father as he passed every room. He was just about to find a phone and call the other phones in the house (his Abie had shown him how to do that) to see if anyone was home._

 _If he was home alone, he was going to get a stool from the kitchen to get at ice cream his dad tried to keep out of his reach and eat it all in front of the TV._

 _"Dad?" Tony yelled again, poking his head into the kitchen._

 _What the young Stark saw briefly confused him. His kitchen was usually **immaculately** clean; Jarvis didn't let anything sit out longer than it took to cook or eat it. There were fresh vegetables, flour and eggs spread out over the main counter. There was a large, simmering pot on the stove, and there was a blonde woman in a green, pleated plaid skirt and green button-up shirt at the record player that now sat next to the microwave. Tony heard the needle skip briefly over the record, and the woman muttered something under her breath._

 _Tony hoped it was a swear word; his momma made sure no one swore around him, so he only knew a few swear words. He always liked learning new ones._

 _The needle buzzed briefly before the music started to play._

 _It wasn't anything his dad or momma played. Tony heard his dad say music like that was **jazzy** , and Tony only knew one person who played **jazzy** music._

 _"Abie?" Tony called, coughing after. His momma always asked why he didn't call her 'Auntie Annie.' When Tony was first learning his letters, he'd see the Telexs on his dad's desk signed with 'AB.' From then on, she was his **Abie**._

 _The blonde woman in green spun on the heel of her white loafers and smiled down at Tony. She could never quite get over how **cute** he always was. Just like right now, with his thick black hair sticking up on one side and plastered to the his face, and those big brown eyes staring up at her._

 _"Hey Buddy," Anna said, smiling down at her 'nephew.'_

 _" **Abie**!" Tony yelled, dropping his duvet and running towards his aunt. Anna swooped down to catch him, and laughed as he buried his face in her neck when he hugged her._

 _"I heard you weren't feeling good," Anna said once Tony's arms loosened a little. He sniffled and nodded slowly. Anna reached up and felt his forehead; he was burning up. "Did your dad ever tell you what sick people get?"_

 _"A runny nose?" Tony guessed, looking at his Abie as she grabbed his space ship duvet._

 _"No," she said, smiling. "They get chicken soup." She told him, dropping Tony into one of the chairs at the kitchen table, and wrapping his duvet around his shoulders._

 _"Really?" Tony asked, grinning. He'd heard about his Abie's famous 'only when you're sick soup.'_

 _" **Really** ," Anna confirmed, nesting the little boy up in the duvet again. The soup only had a few more minutes left, but she knew how Tony was. "And…I have something for you." She said with a grin._

 _Tony watched, excited, as his Abie went to a duffle bag on the floor. She always sent him puzzles. Some odd little box from where ever she was, or a really big real on-the-table-type puzzle that made a really cool picture. This one was a clear plastic box. She put it in front of him, and he snatched it up right away. There was a small metal ball inside, and a maze of tunnels and tracks that led to a small lever in the middle. The lever pushed the five dollar bill out of the small slit in the plastic._

 _"You have to get the-"_

 _"Don't tell me. I wanna figure it out." Tony cut her off abruptly, his intelligent eyes were already narrowed as he looked at the box. Anna smiled and briefly tried to fix Tony's hair._

 _After they finished their soup and went to sit on the over stuffed couch in the den. Anna wanted to try and distract Tony from his fever, stuffy nose and upset tummy, so she she changed into her blue and gray polkadot pajamas so she matched Tony, and they had a pajama day._

 _They watched Star Trek and talked about space. After some Scooby-Doo they pulled off every single book in the library to see if there were any secret doors. They played board games; Anna taught Tony chess and regretted it right after, and Tony taught Anna a game he made up all by himself that he seemed to win everytime._

 _It was around eight when they went up to Tony's bedroom. She read to him in bed while he cuddled up to her side._

 _"Abie?" Tony yawned, hugging the stuffed koala (sent by Anna from Australia) as he rested his cheek on Anna's side._

 _"Yeah buddy?" Anna asked in a soft voice, gently stroking his dark hair; he'd been waking up in coughing fits and she was slowly getting more and more worried. If he got any worse, she'd take a cheek swab or something and culture it in the lab Howard kept for her in the basement._

 _"Are you gonna be here when I wake up?" He mumbled._

 _Anna was hurt that he felt the need to ask, but she hadn't given him a whole lot of faith that she'd stay. On more than one occasion, she'd been called away in the middle of the night and missed breakfast._

 _She gently rested her cheek in his thick hair, staring at the neat line of puzzle boxes lined up on his desk. All the puzzles she sent him were framed on his walls._

 _"Of course I am," Anna confirmed. "Now go to sleep."_

 _"Tell me another story," Tony yawned._

 _"How about another one from Frog and Toad?" She asked, reaching for the stack of books next to his bed._

 _"No...Abie I wanna hear a **real** story." Tony demanded, snuggling closer to his favorite aunt. None of his other aunts, his momma's sisters, exploded Coke bottles with candy or played cars with him on the floor like Abie did. "I wanna real story with knights and princesses and dragons and magic and happy endings and-" He cut himself off in a coughing fit. _

_If Tony hadn't boon coughing, she would have laughed; a real story with royalty, dragons and magic. Instead, Anna rubbed his back until he stopped and gave him a drink of water from the Sesame Street cup he was too old for ("I'm a big kid now, Abie! I don't watch Sesame Street anymore!"), but not to old to get rid of. "You alright Tony?"_

 _"Tell me a story Abie." He mumbled._

 _"Alright..." Anna trailed off, still rubbing his back. "There was once a-"_

 _"Bedtime stories start with 'Once upon a time.' My dad said so." Tony said smartly._

 _ **Of course he did.**_

 _"Once upon a time, there was a princess named Belle. Her father, the king, liked her big brothers better, and sent her to a far away land." Anna started off._

 _"Was there a knight who brought her back to the kingdom?" Tony mumbled, half asleep._

 _"Oh, he wasn't a knight," Anna chuckled softly. "He was a peasant man, who thought it was just mean that the king sent his daughter away. So, he started the long, dangerous journey to bring the princess back himself."_

 _"Was be gonna get gold?"_

 _"No."_

 _"Was he gonna get to marry the princess?"_

 _"Nope."_

 _"Was he gonna get the finest sword in the whole kingdom?"_

 _"No."_

 _"Was he gonna get the fastest horse?"_

 _"No."_

 _"Then why'd he want to fight a dragon to get to the princess if he wasn't gonna get gold or the fastest horse?"_

 _"Because..." Anna paused, gently shaking Tony's shoulder until he looked up at her. "He was a **very good man**."_

 _Tony seemed to consider this for a moment, before nodding a little. "Ok."_

 _Anna chuckled and continued. "The very good man walked for days and days-"_

 _"What's his name?" Tony blurted out._

 _"Hm?"_

 _"What's the very good man's name?"_

 _Anna paused, and took one shaky breath._

 _"The very good man who rescued the princess, his name is Bucky."_

* * *

Anna POV

"What the _hell_ are you doing there?" I hissed to Ellie as I steered Kara _towards_ some empty space, and _away_ from Thor. Steve was trailing behind us; that's one thing I missed about Steve. I told him _once_ that he didn't leave her side, and I knew he was going to stick with it until I told him not to.

"I want to help!" She insisted, looking at me through her glasses. "I-I can help-"

"I know you want to help." I cut her off, grabbing her arm and making her stop in the middle of the hallway. "There are over one hundred agents on board, and I need to make sure we only have one destructive force."

"You-You have a destructive personality," Ellie mumbled. I rolled my eyes and shoved both her and Kara into a room. I leaned on the wall and put my hands over my eyes.

"What's...?" Steve trailed off, leaning next to me. I looked at him. "You talk about Ellie like she's _dangerous_."

I snorted once. "She's the most dangerous person on this thing. And that's taking into account Dr. Banner, Natasha, you and _me_."

Steve's face morphed into a look of confusion. "She's five-five-foot-nothing, has glasses and _dimples_." He stated plainly.

"Ellie..." I trailed off, trying to explain this to him in simple terms; even _I_ found it hard to swallow.

"I found her in a facility in Serbia in 1979." I started off.

"'79..." He trailed off. "That-That would make her-"

"33, yeah." I nodded. "She barely looks legal now, right? When I found her, she was barely 15. Which, I guess, would make her more like _48_...Don't tell her I said that."

I looked at the wall across from me as I told the story.

"We got some intel that there was a facility in Eastern Europe that was pumping out changed, altered people. They...They had power like you wouldn't believe. We went there, took out seven enhanced and more than a dozen soldiers, lost six guys...Ellie was in the basement."

"What'd they do to her?" Steve asked, clearly worried.

I let out a cynical little chuckle and a smile to match. "Not a _damn thing_."

"For what we found, they dug her up in some orphanage in Siberia. They didn't know what they had on their hands; when they figured it out, they locked in her in a little concrete room for months on end to try and _tame_ her."

I looked back at Steve; he had his jaw set and eyebrows pulled together and turned up in the middle.

"She...Steve, S.H.I.E.L.D. _can't_ know what she can do." I said, lowering my voice when an agent passed. "I'll show you the whole damn file later, but now, you _stay with her_. Nobody messes with her, got it?"

"Yes ma'am," Steve said with a small smile as he stood up straighter. I rolled my eyes and chuckled as I threw the door opened.

"Ellie, go with Steve." I said, getting a good look at her. She was wearing a thick gray cable knit sweater over a t-shirt, and baggy cargo pants that were a few inches too long and pooled over her sneakers. Her hands were gripping the strap of her bag tightly, and her glasses were falling down her nose. She glanced at Steve, then back at me.

"Are-Are you-"

"Yes," I said before she even finished. Kara and I watched as Steve and Ellie walked away, back towards the main deck.

"I still can't believe he's here." Kara said softly.

"Neither can I."

* * *

"Do I know you?"

The question was relatively simple, but it was by no means a simple answer.

I was with Dr. Banner as he worked on an algorithm to find the cube. Slowly, I looked across the table and through the clear screen at Tony. He was giving me that suspicious, but more than anything curious with just an undertone of sarcasm.

"What?" Was all I manage to get out.

"You look familiar," Tony clarified, pushing a screen towards Bruce.

"I have one of those faces." I muttered, dropping my gaze.

"Mexico City, 1999." Tony said suddenly, pointing at me with what appeared to be a small pointed screwdriver. He put on a mock disapproving look as he took a few steps towards me. "Were you the one dancing on the bar in the hot pink bikini?"

I was looking over Bruce's shoulder as he typed, and I spoke. "In 1999 I was in Kosovo on a top secret, underground mission to secure a cash of nuclear warheads stolen from Turkey." I glanced back up at Tony. "And pink is _so_ not my color."

That got a half-amused chuckle from him as he turned back to work.

"Brightman, right?" He asked over his shoulder.

"Yeah." I called, looking at some of the readings we were getting. "Spelt like it sounds."

I didn't hear anything from Tony for a while after that. I was a little bit thankful; everything he said reminded me of Howard. "I'm gonna get some water." I announced, walking out.

* * *

" _Lord what_ fools _these mortals be_." I said in a pretentious voice.

Loki turned to face me.

"A Midsummer Night's Dream." I clarified, as I slowly walked around the cell towards the small set of steps that led down to the platform in front of the cell.

"You ever read Shakespeare? You seem like a Shakespeare guy." I stopped in front of the glass, hands clasped behind my back.

There wasn't a hint of emotion on Loki's face.

"Really?" I chuckled. "You tell me that I'm going to be your _queen_ , and now you have _nothing_ to say to me?"

He stiffened and straightened his shoulders.

I sighed and held my hand out towards him. The small object got a decent response from him; his jaw clenched and nostrils flared.

"You remember this?" I asked, glancing at the small paper bird in my palm. It had faded with age, but it was still the same bird. "You made it fly."

He looked at the bird; his blue eyes narrowed. Slowly, the bird's wings began to flap. I didn't try to hide the smile as it feebly fluttered around in front of me.

"I had someone snag it for me before they got here." I said, looking at Loki's emotionless face.

"What happened to the guy who made my little origami bird fly?" I asked him. The green bird abruptly fell to the floor.

" _You changed him_."

* * *

"You knew my dad?"

I was staring out some of the massive glass windows, leaning on the railing.

"Yeah." I said softly.

"You knew _me_?" Tony asked, continuing with the accusing tone. I could see his reflection in the glass. His entire demeanor and body language said he was angry; but his eyes were just as expensive as when he was a kid. He was _hurt_.

"Yeah."

It was like he had a hundred things he wanted to yell at me, but all that was getting through was sarcastic snorts, angry expressions and the beginnings of sentences.

"Tony...Can we not do this now?"

"Oh, I'm _sorry_ , is discussing how you up and abandoned me _inconvenient_ for you right now?"

His sarcasm stung; I'd just found out that literally everything that's happened in the last 39 hours has been my fault. I could only take so much blame. I had my elbows on the rail, and pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes. "Tony, I-I can't-"

"It says in your file you went off the grid in July 1974. You _faked_ your _death_. And, that was the fifth time you did that? Or, was it the seventh?"

My voice was getting thick. "Howard didn't give me a _choice_ -"

"You killed a man with a _spoon_ -I doubt my dad had the upper body strength to make you do _shit_."

"You don't know what I was doing over in Viet-"

"Do you know how much I heard about you and Spangles growing up? Huh?" Tony half-yelled.

" _Tony_ -"

"Every damn day it was _something_! You don't seem to get how your _crappy_ life choices _ruined_ -"

" _I did it for you_!" I yelled as I spun around. My hands were in shaking fists at my side, and I was slowly walking closer to him as I spoke.

"Howard gave me one option, but I didn't have to take it. I could have kept burning my candle at both ends but no good ever comes from that. Your dad saw it before I did, and he gave the shove that put me where I am today. I'm _sorry_ your childhood sucked, I'm _sorry_ you feel like you were abandoned by me, I'm _sorry_ if you feel like me dealing with an uprising of HYDRA in Vietnam and people who shot unarmed men was not good enough a cause for me to get out of your life. Whether you believe it or not, I am sorry; you deserved better. I was doing down a road that would have thrown you, Howard, Maria, Jarvis and anybody I loved in the cross hairs, and I could not, would not, and _will_ _not_ allow that to happen. You were growing up in a hard enough situation, me _dying_ on you, and _making Howard tell you_ , would have been one hundred times more painful than what happened. You grew up without me, and Howard missed me, it _sucked_. Get _over it_. I have to live the rest of my life knowing that my best friend in the whole world would go to my grave and cry on my birthday, bought me a Christmas gift and wrote me a Valentine every year _for the rest of his life._ It was the hardest decision of my life, and not a day goes by that I don't think about how my life would be different if I stayed around. I guess I can take solace in the fact that I could protect the Starks better dead than alive; I stopped seven assassination attempts on your mother alone, _so you do not get to_ _preach_ _to me about bad life choices, Anthony._"

I hadn't realized we had crossed the hall until Tony's back hit the wall. He stared at me wordlessly, and I stared back.

"One thing I hoped you _hadn't_ gotten from your dad, was the ability to _run your mouth_ on shit you _don't know about_." I said lowly, before walking away from him.

I barely made it around the corner before I sucked in a breath and my hands flew to cover my mouth and nose. Trying to avoid crying, I pinched my eyes shut.

I knew Natasha well enough to know that the slight scuffling I heard next to me was her sitting next to me.

"This-This isn't how I wanted to meet him." I choked out, taking deep, shaky breaths.

Bucky saw me cry all the time. Clint's seen me cry twice. Tasha has seen me cry one time, and one time too many. It _wasn't_ going to become two.

"When was the last time you saw him?" She asked me.

"December eighteenth 1991." I whispered.

"That's-"

"The day after they died, yeah."

* * *

 **Wow. Ok, first of all, I want to say that this was super intense when I wrote it...A lot of emotions thrown in here.**

 **I feel like I didn't do a super job of capturing Tony's sarcastic awesomeness, so go easy on me.**

 **-More about Ellie her past and why it's, you know, relevant in the coming chapters-**

 **~Christianne**


	7. Chapter 7: My Master

**Well, here's the next chapter. A note before you read; I have a pretty big time skip here. For clarification, it begins when all the Avengers are in the lab and yelling at each other. Yup. You'll know when you get to it.**

 **Oh, by the way, I have a site for this story now. The link is on my bio. If you read it, you'll get a few little sneak peeks about the coming events. ;)**

 **~Christianne**

 ** _Slight Warning: A few instances of language. Extremely brief mentions of self harm and suicide ABSOLUTELY NOTHING EVEN A LITTLE BIT GRAHPIC_**

 ***Unedited***

* * *

Anna POV

 **December, 1991**

 _I let my coat flap in the breeze as I looked down the cliff. Steely waves were crashing against the stone a hundred feet below me._

 _"Uh...Miss Buchanan?"_

 _I looked over my shoulder and saw a somewhat familiar face._

 _"Obadiah, right?" I asked, turning towards him; walking away from the cliff. "You shouldn't be here."_

 _He said nothing, he just nodded a little. "He was my best friend." Obadiah said in a hollow sounding voice. "I wanted to see where it happened."_

 _"Where's Tony?" I asked him._

 _"I don't know."_

 _"You_ _ **don't know**_ _?" I asked him. My voice must have been more threatening than I thought; he leaned back slightly; intimidated._

 _"The police called his apartment, I sent some people over there...Couldn't find him." Obadiah said in the same hollow tone._

 _"I'll be back in a few hours." I said as I began walking to my car._

 _"Where-"_

 _"_ _ **I'm going to find Tony!**_ _" I yelled over my shoulder._

* * *

 _Tony's apartment, close to the MIT campus was empty, like Obadiah said. I called S.H.I.E.L.D. on my way there._

 _"This is Juliette Bravo Four Six," I said as I started my car; they made me use a stupid code name now. This new director, Nick something,_ _ **sucked**_ _. "It's an important message from Annabelle Brightman."_

 _As I waited to speak, I got on the highway to New York._

 _Maybe Tony went back to the estate to throw a big party like he did a few years ago._

 _"Speak when ready." The agent said._

 _I took a deep breath, merged onto the interstate, and spoke._

 _"As some of you may know, Howard Stark and his wife Maria died yesterday. Their son, Anthony Stark hasn't been able to be located by the Long Island PD. A preliminary examination of Stark's Porsche shows evidence of assassination; Tony needs to be found ASAP. Bring any and all information directly to me." I snapped my phone shut and_ _ **floored**_ _it._

* * *

 _Howard got Tony a penthouse apartment a few blocks from campus. I flirted with the doorman for six seconds and got the key to Tony's apartment._

 _First chance I get, I'm faking a gas leak in this place to Howard would get him a new one._

 _As the door hit the wall behind it, I let out a low whistle. The place was a mess. Clothes all over the floor, empty pizza boxes and Chinese food containers amongst half-put-together gadgets._

" _Hey Tony?" I called, walking through the apartment; my hand was ready on my gun at my hip. The kitchen was even worse than the living room where the front door opened up to. I used one hand to close the fridge, and continued to the bedroom._

 _I rolled my eyes, and pushed the pair of hot pink, lace trimmed panties off the door knob with the end of my gun before going into Tony's room. The bed was unmade, closet open, and there were two more pairs of panties and four bras (none of them matched) around the room._

" _ **Damnit**_ _." I cussed as I put my gun back in the holster. Every hour I didn't find him was another hour he could be as dead as Howard. A message beeped on his machine; I played it as I looked around._

" _ **Hey, Tony, dude, you gotta check out the party at the Alpha house. They got senior chicks slummin' it here!"**_

 _The voice on the machine sounded_ _ **completely**_ _wasted. But, I'd called S.H.I.E.L.D. an hour ago, and a drunk college boy was better than nothing at all._

 _I grabbed a plain black suit and tie before leaving._

* * *

 _The door wasn't even locked._

 _I was_ _ **so**_ _going to yell at the hungover 21-year-old for that._

 _I counted eight bodies passed out in the living room. Two in the kitchen. Four more on the steps. I stopped counting after twenty in the first three bedrooms._

 _I rolled my eyes when I found Tony passed out on the window seat in the bedroom in the front of the house._

" _Hey," I said, putting my gun back in the holster. "Tony...Time to wake up buddy." I said, shaking his shoulder slightly. He grunted and snorted in his sleep before rolling over (and shoving his face into someone else's discarded pants)._

 _Sighing, I stood and put one hand on my hip. I skipped back downstairs after I woke everyone on the second floor up. They were a little reluctant, but when I offered to not tell the dean's office, the police and their parents about all the underage drinking, they seemed happy to comply._

 _Just as the last hungover college boy left, I was putting the largest pot under the sink and filling it up with cold water. I leaned on the counter as I waited for the pot to fill up._

 _ **Jesus Howard...What'd you**_ **do** _ **to that boy?**_

 _I scolded myself for speaking ill of the dead, but I couldn't put it together. The Howard_ _ **I**_ _knew would never raise his son so, that at 21-years-old I needed to give him a head-bath to get him off a two day bender. I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes; it was hard not to blame myself at times like this._

 _I walked up stairs with the empty pot, a wooden spoon in my back pocket._

 _I didn't say a word as I tipped the pot over on Tony's head._

 _He gasped awake and sputtered and spat out water. Tony jerked wildly and fell onto the floor, groaning painfully as his head hit the floor._

" _Get up_ _Tony." I said, my voice just a little over normal volume. He moaned and grunted something that sounded like a string of cuss words in response._

 _I grabbed the wooden spoon and gave the bottom of the pot six good hits, matched with me yelling 'GET UP TONY!' twelve times._

" _I'm up! I'm up! I'm UP!" Tony yelled defensively as he sat up on the floor. Once he was upright, he swayed and fell back onto the wall. "Oh..._ _ **wow**_ _that's not fun."_

" _Take a shower." I told him, looking in a closet. I grabbed a towel from the tip shelf._

" _Who the hell are you?" He asked, one hand pressed to his head as he gave me a sour look. "My_ _ **dad**_ _sent you, didn't he?"_

" _Take a shower." I said again, throwing the towel at him._

" _Look, lady, I don't have classes on Wednesdays, so-"_

" _It's_ _ **Thursday**_ _," I cut him off. He frowned, and seemed to think hard._

" _Take a shower, then we'll talk." I told him, then went back downstairs._

 _I heard the water turn on, and I began going through the cupboards. I turned on the coffee maker, and found two eggs, vegetable oil and chocolate chips. My first goal was something greasy, but since I was working with frat-house-food, my options were limited._

" _Hey_ _ **Abie.**_ _"_

 _I spun around, and for a split second I saw Tony when he was a little kid, wrapped up in his spaceship bed covers._

" _Hey_ _ **lady**_ _." Tony said again. I blinked and he was a 21-year-old again._

 _A 21-year-old with wet hair and wearing boxers and a hoodie._

" _My name is Anna." I told him, turning back to the stove. "I brought you clothes." I said, pointing over my shoulder with the spatula. Tony said nothing as he went to the plastic garment bag._

" _Are these-?"_

" _Yup." I finished for him. "I went to your apartment first."_

 _I flipped the last of the six pancakes onto a (hopefully) clean plate. Tony was awkwardly hopping into the slacks and had one arm in the white dress shirt. I put the plate down, then took one for myself. "Eat." I said, pointing to the pancakes. I put a large cup of hot, strong coffee next to the plate._

 _Tony grabbed it and drank from it eagerly._

" _I knew your dad pretty well, once upon a time, but haven't talked to him in a while. Obadiah called me...I sorta specialize in this sorta thing. But he didn't send me." I said as Tony picked at his pancakes._

" _Really, 'cause it seems like sumthin' he'd do." He mumbled in response._

 _ **How was I supposed to tell him this?**_

" _Tony..." I started off, walking around the counted to stand next to him. "Your-Your parents were in a car accident on late Tuesday night."_

 _The fork dropped to the table. "What? What happened? Is my mom ok?"_

" _Tony-"_

" _My_ _ **dad**_ _was driving, wasn't he?" He said, getting more and more worked up. "Fuckin' drunk idiot-I knew one day that he'd be_ _ **one**_ _bourbon over the-"_

 _The black suit._

 _He finally processed the black suit and tie in the garment bag._

 _Tony laughed once, shaking his head. "No...No, that-that's not-" He cut himself off laughing._

 _I frowned at him. "_ _ **Tony**_ _," I said cautiously; hungover and heartbroken wasn't in my Stark Emotional Database._

" _It-It has to be a mistake." He said forcefully, turning to look up at me. "Right? I-I mean the police are_ _ **morons**_ _and make mistakes all the time."_

" _They were forced off a cliff." I said softly._

" _Lots of people own a black town car-"_

" _It was the hot rod red Porsche." I said in the same soft voice._

" _I know six guys who have-"_

" _It had vanity plates that read 'STARK.'"_

 _Tony rubbed his hands down his face as he kept shaking his head._

" _They...They both died, Tony." I needed to get it out._

 _I wasn't sure what to do. It wasn't like I could give him a hug, make a bowl of popcorn and watch reruns of Star Trek with him until he was smiling. He didn't know me anymore._

 _I reached towards him when he inhaled sharply. I had barely put a hand on his shoulder before Tony used one arm to grab around my waist in a hug. His head was on my upper torso as he quietly, almost silently, cried._

 _I instinctively hugged my godson back._

" _I hate your fucking guts." Tony mumbled into my stomach._

" _What?" I asked._

" _That's the last thing I told my dad." Tony mumbled again._

" _I-I said_ _ **I hate your fucking guts**_ _."_

* * *

Omniscient POV

The lab was pretty quiet; Dr. Banner was working on the scepter, Tony was working on seven different things at once, Ellie was playing with the end of her braid and Kára was wandering around the lab. She was keeping an eye on Ellie; Fury needed to talk to Steve.

"You know, you were really hard on Anna, Tony." Kára sighed, hopping up to sit on the lab table next to Bruce; who, slowly and carefully, slid away from her and moved to another table.

"No I wasn't." Tony said dismissively. "All that crap about _protecting_ me, just _excuses_."

Kara rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. When she didn't say anything, Tony glanced back at her. "Not gonna defend her?"

"Oh, Annie is my best friend. Has been for, like, 55 years. But you're _Howard's_ kid, and if you're _half_ as stubborn as he was, nothing I say is going to change how you think." Kára said while inspecting her nails.

Tony looked over his shoulder briefly and rolled his eyes.

While they bickered, Ellie slowly made her way over to Bruce.

She stood across from him and silently watched him work. "You're Bruce Banner, right?" She asked, pushing her glasses up her nose. Bruce nodded, but didn't look at her.

"You're...You're the Hulk, right?" Ellie asked timidly. She didn't want to offend him.

Bruce looked over his shoulder; no one on the helicarrier had been so direct with him. _No one_ was that direct with him. "Uh...I-I...I say the _Other_ _Guy_."

"Oh." Ellie said, nodding a little. She pulled her thick gray sweater over her knuckles. "Do you mind?" She asked, gesturing to the stool next to him.

His brows furrowed, but he shook his head.

Ellie, all five-foot-four-inches of her, sat down next to him; hands in her lap, braid over her shoulder, ankles crossed over one another. To Bruce, she just looked so _young_.

He must not have hid his uneasiness very well, because Ellie spoke up again.

"Is it an odd feeling?"

"Is what an odd feeling?" Bruce asked, not looking up from the screen.

"Knowing you're not the most destructive person aboard this ship." Ellie clarified. Bruce looked up in mild shock. "Is it an odd feeling?"

Bruce stood up and took off his glasses. "What are you?" He asked lowly, so Tony and Kára wouldn't hear.

Ellie shrugged and looked down at her hands. "I don't know...I think that's what scares me."

* * *

_-~0O0~-_

* * *

While the others argued, Anna was fighting to keep control of her own mind. She was hunched over, her hands pressed to her head.

She tried to open her mouth and scream, yell for someone to hit her; hit her hard enough in the head to get the cold out.

 _ **Do you feel that? That cold feeling running down your spine?**_

" _No_." She ground out. No one heard her, they were too busy yelling at each other. Accept Ellie. She had her back pressed to the wall as she softly sang ' _Somewhere Over the Rainbow_.' It was the best thing to calm her down.

 _ **That means I am near. I am watching you, my dear.**_

"You-You're in the _cell_." Anna insisted, the sharp, piercing cold was coiling around her mind. No one heard her.

 _ **Does that frighten you? Or does it**_ **excite** _ **you? Either way, I enjoy what I see.**_

" _You don't scare me_." She hissed, the sharp cold, as hard as she tried to fight it, was too strong.

That time, Steve heard her. Before he could ask what she said, an explosion, followed by the groaning protest of metal and the screams of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, sent Anna crashing beneath the lab.

As she lay unconscious, her master's calm, charismatic voice hazed her mind. Orders and promises by Loki coaxed Anna to a state where he could once again put her under the spell of the scepter.

 _ **Open your eyes, my pet. You have company you must give a proper greeting.**_

* * *

Kára and Thor had been yelling at each other in their native tongue; screaming that the other had no use being there. Thor because he had not proven that he cared for any human other than Jane. Kára because she was a disgraced Valkyrie. Both of them continued yelling even after they fell from the blast.

That's when the armed men in black burst through the room.

"Put your hammer down and hands up!" The man in front yelled to Thor.

"Hold on!" Kára screamed at him, then continued yelling at Thor in their ancient, foreign language.

When they fired at Thor, he let his hammer go. It knocked all the soldiers down and out.

" _See you haven't lost your touch_ ," Kára purred sarcastically in the language of the gods.

Thor sent her an annoyed look. " _But you have lost yours_."

Kára cocked a hip. " _Yeah, and whose fault is that?_ "

She was about to turn away, when she stopped and turned back towards the god. She spoke in English this time.

"And just 'cause I lost my wings, Odinson, doesn't mean I lost my touch."

* * *

Steve could hear garbled, muffled voices through the earpiece Anna fitted him with earlier. He pushed himself up onto his hands, and bit back a wince; his head was throbbing. The ringing was dissipating with every breath he took, but it still impaired his hearing.

When he looked around, the ringing was replaced with a voice.

A familiar voice that he used to invite into his head. But now, all it was doing was reminding him of a broken promise.

 _Something' happens to me, God forbid, look after Annie, alright?_

Bucky's words raced through Steve's head as he looked at the young woman next to him.

Anna was on her stomach a few feet from him, her face turned towards him and a trail of blood over her forehead that was getting in her hair. Her arms, which were bare, were scraped and bruised, as was her torso; there were dark burgundy stains leaking through the soft gray material. Steve couldn't tell if she was breathing; her shoulders looked still.

He got to his feet, only to be knocked down again when the helicarrier jolted to the left. Steve grabbed a chunk of broken metal to keep from sliding away from Anna, and pulled himself closer to her. After gently flipping her on her back and pressed an ear to her chest; he sighed in relief when he heard air rush through her throat and into her lungs.

Anna pushed herself up instantly, aback facing Steve, and breathed heavily.

"Hey," Steve said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Annie, you doin' ok?"

She shook off his hand and stood up, Steve stood with her. He frowned when he heard her laughing lowly, and taking a few steps away from him. They'd fallen into what appeared to be a supply room; the walls of the large room were lined with boxes and shelves. Anna crossed the room and braced herself on the shelf, grabbing the steel bars to keep herself up.

" _Steve Rogers_ ," she sighed, looking over her shoulder at him. Steve clenched his jaw; Annie's eyes weren't a warm, soft, soulful whisky brown. They were a startling, unnatural blue.

" _Captain America_ ," Anna said in the same tone. "You know, S.H.I.E.L.D. compares its top agents fighting ability to you."

She paused briefly, getting up from the shelf. She glanced down at her arms and torso, but looked right back up. She brushed back some wavy hair, and frowned when she grazed the cut.

"Natasha is _collectively_ one of the best," she admitted, her gaze flicking back to Steve. "And I can _wipe_ _the floor_ with her."

" _Annie_ ," Steve said calmly. "Annie, this isn't you."

She laughed, tucking hair behind her ear. "See, that's the thing!" She said, sounding almost _excited_. "I'm still _me_!"

"No, no this isn't the Annie I knew," Steve insisted. Her words were cold and condescending.

"You've been _gone_ for 70 years," Anna spat at him. "You _barely_ know the person I've become."

"You have to _fight_ _him_ -"

"I don't _want_ to fight him!" Anna screamed at Steve, cutting him off. "My master helped me realize that I have _every right_ to be _angry_ at this world-at the _people_ in it. He's the only person who hasn't let me down!"

"The only-What about Phil?" Steve cut himself off, and started listing people. "Ellie, Kára? Natasha and Barton, Fury, _Howard_ , Kiku?... _Me_?"

Anna snorted. "Howard Stark it at the top of my ' _Let Me Down_ ' list. You see what he did to Tony? That boy had almost as worse a childhood as I did!"

"What about me, huh?" Steve tried to bargain, while the rest of his mind was trying to think of how to snap her out of Loki's spell. "I _never_ let you down." He insisted.

Anna seemed to consider what he said for a second, her chin tipped up in thought; she was listening to her master's voice.

 _ **Hurt him.**_

"See, Steve, you did something worse," Anna said calmly, walking closer to Steve. She was an arm's length away; Steve could have reached out and pulled her in for a hug.

After swallowing thickly, Steve spoke. "What-What'd I do?"

Anna leaned forward, less than a foot from Steve's chest.

" _You let him_ _ **fall**_ _._ "

* * *

"Mr. Stark!"

"Oh...Oh, _please_ don't be dead!"

"M-Mr. _Stark_!"

" _Stop shaking me_." Tony groaned.

Ellie quickly removed her hands from the genius's shoulders, and sat back on her heels so he could right himself. Tony looked around and pushed himself up to he was sitting instead of laying.

"What happened?" He asked, more like _demanded_ , Ellie.

"The floor fell out from under us...All of us." Ellie said quietly, falling to sit on the floor and pull her knees to her chest. Her glasses had a large crack in them. Tony frowned when he saw her shaking hands pulling at her long dark braid.

"What's wrong with you?" Tony asked, rolling his shoulder back; he must have landed on it funny. Ellie just shook her head.

"I-I'm made entirely of flaws and stitched together with good intentions." The little dark haired woman got out, pressing her hands to her face as she tried not to cry.

Tony was never good with crying woman, but this one just hurt to look at; she looked like one of those girls he saw on the ads for teen suicide. Sad, curled up and hopeless. Shaking the thought out of his head, Tony stood up and began looking around the room they ended up in.

"You came with the Valkyrie, right?" Tony asked, trying to get Ellie to say something. He overheard Kara telling Ellie to take deep breaths, and that if she wanted to leave she could.

"She-She doesn't like to be called a Valkyrie anymore." Ellie mumbled, still pulling at her braid. "Only Anna can get away with it now, she hits other people when they call her that."

Tony's eyes rolled at the mention of Anna. "What's with her, anyway?" He asked sharply, turning to look at Ellie. "Anna, I mean."

Ellie didn't look at him. "Her philosophy of life is that she might die any day, any moment. The tragedy, she says, is that she doesn't."

Tony raised his brows as he turned to look at the girl, but she wasn't done.

"She's ripped herself to pieces over and over again to keep others whole. When they grow tired or her, or get impatient, they throw the pieces of her back and leave her to try and stitch up the wounds on her heart. Anna is a patchwork of her former self, she leaves people better than when they came to her while she suffers in silence because there is no one here in this world that can understand the pain she's suffered through that still breaths."

"Do you _always_ talk like that?" Tony grunted, using his back to push debris out of the way.

"Like what?" Ellie asked, peeking up from her knees.

"Like the love child of a fortune cookie and a therapist." Tony said, finally getting the door open. He took about six seconds to feel proud of himself, then looked over at Ellie. "Hey, you comin' or not?"

Ellie looked longingly at the door, but shook her head. "No...No, I should stay away from... _people_."

Tony rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "You're really going to make me leave you here?"

Ellie nodded. "I'm a lady, not a baby bird. I'm tiny and quiet, but I have a loud scream, a temper that can boil water and a pretty good right hook...Or, I guess, that's what Anna tells me." She said, pushing herself to the wall and straightening up a little. Her brown eyes were strong while the rest of her body was scared, and Tony figured she'd do fine.

Ellie watched Tony walk away, and continued to gnaw on her lip. Her hands gripped the opposite wrists, and she felt the lines along them. Looking through her cracked glasses, Ellie stared at the door and waited for someone to come through. She was both anxious and excited.

If no one came, she wouldn't feel guilty.

If someone did come, they'd see she wasn't meant to be stuck on an estate upstate.

* * *

The pang of guilt and sadness Steve was hit was strong enough to leave him defenseless. Anna gave him a good hit to the face, then grabbed the front of his uniform and hurled him around to the floor.

"He was _all I had_ , Steve!" Anna yelled, her voice echoing off the metal. " _He was all I had_ and he _trusted you_ to make sure he _came back to me_!"

Steve could recall easily 15 different times Anna had insisted, for _hours_ , sometimes, that Steve was the _last person_ at fault for Bucky's death. He was so shocked, he couldn't defend himself from the metal bar, from a broken shelf, Anna hurled at him. He managed to hold his arm up against it, and it hit his forearm with enough force to leave a big bruise.

"I-I'm _sorry_ ," Steve managed to say, looking up at Anna from the floor.

She rolled her eyes and gave him a sharp kick in the ribs. "Get up."

When Steve didn't move, she kicked him again. "I said, _get up_."

Steve got to his feet slowly, holding onto the pipe Anna had thrown at him. "I'm sorry," he said again.

Anna scoffed. "Is that supposed to make me _feel better_?" She asked him, she got an empathetic look in response.

"After the war, I went home with _nothing_ , Steve." Anna said, her voice was angrier and harsher that Steve had ever heard it. "I had a whole in my heart the size of Europe and _nothing_ **anybody** did could make it better. Bucky _never_ let me feel so alone, and I had to go from hearing his voice every night to hearing nothing at all."

Steve opened his mouth to say something, but Anna spun on her heel and gave his gut a hard kick, sending him stumbling back into the shelves.

"They named a medal after him, you know," Anna said harshly. "The _Barnes Cross_ , yeah, they awarded it to him the year after he died _on his birthday_."

Steve got nailed in the face again. He just took the hits, which only made Anna angrier.

"I had to get up and go to Washington, take the damn thing and say something like 'I'm sure he'd be honored.' If Bucky had been alive for that, he would have _laughed in the president's face_."

"Yeah, he would have." Steve said under his breath, finding the mind to block Anna's next punch. "He _should have_ been alive to laugh in his face."

" _And whose fault is that?_ " Anna asked sarcastically, grabbing another section of shelving bar, this one longer than the section Steve currently held. She swung hers, and Steve raised his own section to counter it.

"Wanna know what I did on the ten year anniversary of his death?" Anna asked, grunting at the end as she swung her bar again. It hit Steve's with a _clang_.

"Went to the cemetery."

 _Clang_.

"Loaded a gun."

 _Clang_.

" _And put it under my chin_."


	8. Chapter 8: Ellonore Maple

" _Wanna know what I did on the ten year anniversary of his death?"_

" _Went to the cemetery."_

" _Loaded a gun."_

" _And put it under my chin."_

* * *

Omniscient POV

Steve could barely react before Anna swung her bar. Not at him, at the agent looking in the closet. Steve hadn't even noticed him there. There was blood coming from his head, there was no way he was still alive.

Anna readier her bar, now bloody, but Steve grabbed it and yanked it towards him. He dropped the bar and grabbed Anna's shoulders.

"Couldn't make myself pull the trigger," Anna hissed as she struggled in Steve's iron grip. "Tried too every year after that...Too much of a _coward_."

She kicked Steve's stomach so hard he thought his spleen was going to fly out of his mouth.

"You should know about that, don't'cha?" Anna asked trying to rile him up, leaving Steve on the floor as she went towards the body behind her. "Bein' a _coward_?"

Anna had her back to him, but she continued to speak. "He _died for you_ , you know."

Steve had his face pressed to the cold floor, trying to work out his next move. He couldn't keep taking hits like he had been; verbal or physical. It wouldn't be too hard to take Anna down, but he didn't know if he could do it.

"My master showed me cowards won't be allowed in his new rule." Anna continued.

Anna saying my master lit a fire under Steve, and he started to get up.

A familiar clicking made him froze. He was on his back, propped up on his elbows, looking up at Anna as she pointed the dead agents guns at him.

She was completely calm, staring at him with those startling, unnatural blue eyes. She tilted her head at him as she thought about shooting him.

Steve swallowed, and chose his words carefully. "Do you think he... _Bucky_ , would want you to pull the trigger?"

Anna's eyes narrowed.

"Think-Think he'd like the situation you're putting yourself in?" He added on.

Anna sighed again. "Bucky stopped approving of what I did on March 10, 1946."

"Everything I've done since then..." She trailed off, and Steve only got more nervous. The next time she spoke, her voice was quiet and soft; how it was in the weeks after Bucky's death.

"Then why do it?"

Anna's voice changed a little, it was rough and desperate. "You think I _like_ what I've done?" She half yelled at him. "I only did it because he's dead and gone! He can't see the _hellish_ things I've done-"

Steve cut her off, and jumped up to grab the gun from her.

He grabbed the gun and threw it to the far side of the room. Steve _made himself_ hit Anna in the chest, knocking the wind out of her. She was spun around and pinned to the floor, Steve's knee on her back as he searched the dead man.

He found some plastic ties he'd seen some other agents use. He fed the thin, stiff, flat cord through the small eyelet on the opposite end, and looped it around Anna's wrists. He yanked the end a few times, making sure they were absolutely as tight as they could be without cutting off blood flow.

Using her bound hands and a shoulder, Steve pulled Anna to her feet, and wordlessly shoved her to the door, leading her towards the main platform.

Not even halfway there, he heard Ellie screaming. He froze, and glanced at Anna. She was a mask of indifference. Steve saw an agent a few feet away, and called him over.

"Here." He shoved Anna at him, then gave her a harsh glare. " _Behave_."

Anna rolled her eyes. "Yes _dad_." She said sarcastically. Steve bit his tongue, and ran towards Ellie.

"I could not have imagined a better performance," the agent said in Anna's ear. She smiled, and felt two cool hands snap the zip-cuffs like they were made of paper. She spun just in time to see the average, brown haired man morph into a striking form with black hair and sharp features.

"Well, took you long enough," Anna said cooly, making Loki smile softly.

"We have somewhere to be, my darling," he said, a hand on her waist.

Anna felt something cold and heavy come to rest on her forehead again. She smiled as she reached up to touch the diadem. "I never did thank you for this," she told him, a coy smile on her face.

Her master chuckled, and gave her a sidelong gaze. "You're companionship is thanks enough."

Anna shrugged, and smiled a little. "Most men would have a more... _physical_ representation of my gratitude."

"I am not most men, pet." Loki chuckled, a hand on the small of Anna's back.

Loki walked her through the ruined helicarrier to a waiting plane.

* * *

Steve didn't stop running until he found Ellie. She was huddled up in a half-caved in room, curled in on herself with her legs up to her chest.

Wasting no time, Steve went over to her and gently put a hand on her shoulder.

"No!" Ellie yelped, her arms tightening around her legs. "No! Get-Get away from me!"

"It's me Ellie! It's Steve," he insisted, forcing a hand on her shoulder. The other was braced on the wall in case the helicarrier made another sudden jolt. He tried to force her chin up with his thumb so he could get a better idea of what happened to her.

"That's why you have to get away!" Ellie screamed, her body was beginning to shake, and Steve was getting concerned.

He took his hand away from the wall, and used both gloved hands to gently force Ellie's neck up, and to force her small hands out of the death grip they had on her own wrists.

Blood.

That was the first thing he saw.

"You-You need to _leave_!" Ellie insisted.

That was right before the first, of what would become many, shockwaves shook the hellicarrier.

* * *

Loki and Anna were about to go out onto the flight deck and get on the waiting plane.

"You never _were_ good at battle plans." A voice called, making the couple stop and turn.

Kára was leaning on a mangled hunk of metal, watching in slight disgust as a brainwashed Anna draped herself over the younger prince. She pushed herself up. "You always forget the underdog."

Loki tipped his chin up. "The last of the Valkyries."

Kára proudly tipped her chin up, and a small, cynical smile crossed her face. "What the hell _happened to you_?" She asked, chuckling. "What happened to the man who led me through the forbidden passages to Earth after we were banished?"

She saw Loki's jaw tighten.

"What happened to the man who brought me food and clean gowns when I was imprisoned?"

"He was _weak_." Loki spat, his grip becoming painfully tight on Anna's waist; he was leaving deep bruises, but the thought of vocalizing her pain never crossed her mind.

"He was _kind_." Kára corrected him sharply.

"He was _kind_ , and _mischievous_ , and _charming_ , and _misunderstood_. He's not _this_!" She threw her arms out towards the Loki standing in front of her; the one with overgrown hair, pallid skin and angry eyes.

"What would it mean to you for your wings back, Valkyrie?" Loki asked her.

"It's _Kára_ now," she corrected casually. "Last time I was a Valkyrie, people still gave brandy to babies for teething."

"You could be _magnificent_." Loki crooned, leaving Anna behind him to walk towards Kára.

"Join me, old friend." He offered, reaching out to take Kára's hand. Since he'd been on Earth, he'd given the closest thing to a real smile Kára had seen so far. "Think of the respect you could once again have...The _most powerful_ , and _the only_ Valkyrie."

Kára pulled her hand from his. "There is nothing you can offer to me that will move my loyalties, Loki." She spoke softer, a touch of the distinct Æsir accent in her voice. It was harder than she thought it'd be; facing the man who was so kind to her, so gentle, who she once held such a strong friendship for, and telling him she wouldn't stand with him in battle.

Loki frowned, and reached towards Kára's face. She turned her head slightly, making Loki's hand stop in the air. "I have not yet gotten used to conflict without your wings over me."

Kára snapped her gaze towards him and gritted her teeth. "Lest you turn to another path, you will _never_ have my wings over you in battle again."

Loki's eyes went from familiar to hostile in a second, and he spun on a heel to walk towards Anna. He was less than a foot from her when multiple bullet shots hit precarious metal. A quantity of it fell onto Anna, and she was unconscious before he hit the ground. The god spun on a heel to face Kára once more.

"You lured and baited me like a boar to slaughter," he growled. Kára cocked a hip and smirked.

"How was my accent?" She asked playfully. "It's been awhile since I spoke our native language. My _norrœnt mál_ is a bit rusty."

"You-You _lied_ to me," Loki said, sounding appalled.

Kara leaned forward. " _I learned from the best_."

Loki's lip curled, and he readied to blast Kára with the scepter, when Anna began stirring under the metal. He cautiously took a step towards her, as she was being helped up by the redheaded mortal; Natasha. Anna blinked, and in a few second before unconsciousness consumed her once more, he saw a emotion he knew well; _disgust_.

In the confusion that followed in the following seconds, Loki escaped to a jet piloted by one of his remaining subjects. He closed his eyes, and tried to get one more message to his darling Anna before the scepter's link was broken.

 _ **You are the only one who understands the pain I have endured.**_

 _ **When you are alone in your quarters,**_ **utterly** _ **sure someone was there, right behind you and turn around to see no one...I am there. I have always been there. Watching you, waiting for you until the moment when I take you and make you mine. We have a bond to which no one can compare; our like souls are forever tangled.**_

 _ **You always have been, and will forever remain to be**_ _ **mine**_ _ **.**_

* * *

Anna POV

I could hear Natasha speaking to me, and Kára joined in soon after.

"My _head hurts_." I mumbled, feeling around my head for the _godforsaken diadem_ Loki kept putting on my head. I grabbed the cool metal and yanked it from my head, pulling out a few hairs. I tossed it far to my right, and heard it clatter on the ground.

"Hey, hey, you with me?" Natasha asked, gently smacking my cheeks.

"She's gonna be way out of it for a while." Kára said, I could feel her pressing and poking me, checking her assessment of my injuries.

A sharp pain stung my cheek and I jerked awake. Kára was looking at Natasha with narrowed eyes and shaking her head a little; Natasha must have slapped me.

"Thanks." I groaned once and sat up, a hand to my shoulder. "What I miss?"

Kára spoke first, and it were _literally_ the last three words I needed to hear.

"Ellie got shot."

* * *

"I'm fine!" I yelled at Kára as she tried to get me to sit down and take it easy. "Is she in the infirmary, or did they throw her in the brig?"

Natasha rolled her eyes and guided me to where Steve was trying to get a bloody Ellie onto a hospital bed. I saw two nurses move to grab her (rather roughly I could only assume), and both Kára and I took of towards them, screaming at them _not to touch her_. I didn't get there fast enough. The nurses grabbed her shoulders, yanking her away from Steve, and _it happened_.

Kára and I knew enough to grab something, but Natasha and the nurses weren't so lucky.

If you drop a penny in the middle of a still pond, the water ripples out in circles from the center. Those visible ripples passed through the air quickly, knocking over everything within them and everyone in them.

Steve remained standing, looking confused as everyone around him dropped.

"Everyone get out!" I yelled, shoving Tasha towards the door. She numbly stumbled towards it, still disoriented from the blast. Kara and I ran towards Ellie, trying to get everyone away before the next one came.

"Hold on to something!" Kara yelled, grabbing the gurney Ellie was on (it was bolted to the floor) like I did. A few straggler nurses fell over. Steve attempted to leave, but Kara pushed him into a chair.

"Anna!"

"I'm busy Nick!" I yelled.

"What the hell is that girl?" The director of S.H.I.E.L.D. demanded over an intercom.

"Said it yourself Fury," Kara chimed in, using the straps on the sides of the gurney to keep Ellie's ankles and wrists down so she could begin working on the blood gushing wound. "She's a girl."

My eyes darted to Steve, who's face was a mix of worry, confusion and slight panic. The metal arms of the chair were getting a little bent from his tight grip.

"Steve! Get over here!" I said, fumbling around a set of drawers for some familiar supplies. I let out a string of swear words as another pulse of energy rippled through the air and knocked me off balance.

"Oh my God-Are you insane?" Fury yelled through the intercom again. He was holding a tabplet in his hand. He pressed it to the glass wall of the infirmary. "Dr. Banner started a DNA analyisis on a strand of _Ellenore Maple_ 's hair."

Kara let out a laugh. "Jeez...And I thought he was _cute_."

"Really?" I asked, forcing Steve into a chair.

"Yeah," Kara nodded, pulling on some gloves. "He had the whole older-professor thing, _and_ the adorable curls."

"What are you-"

"Shut up Steve!" I yelled at him, yanking off one of his red gloves and pushing the sleeve up. I smiled wryly.

"You brought a goddamned _mutant_ on here?" Fury bellowed into the intercom. I'm pretty sure I could hear him.

"She's not technically a mutant," I pointed out, wincing as another ripple jolted through the air. Just like old times, I felt around Steve's arm for a vein. I found one and stuck a needle in his arm.

"She has the X-Gene Anna!"

"Dollars to doughnuts _Steve_ does too." I pointed out, carefully looking for a vein on Ellie's arm. "All the X-gene means is that your a little different than the normal homo sapian."

I found a vein, and stuck the needle in. "Steve stand up!" I yelled.

I watched the clear tube slowly turn red. It went into Ellie's arm just as another ripple pierced the air.

It stopped in mid air.

There were visible, hazy rings in the air. The objects they would have knocked over were hovering in the air. Kara couldn't help herself; she reached out to brush her fingers against the invisible, shaky lines of energy. It moved and bent itself around her fingers.

In a soundless rush, the energy waves rushed back into Ellie. Her chest arched up briefly as it entered her, and she fell back down.

Everything was still.

"What-"

"Shh!" Kara and I hissed at Fury.

Slowly, energy with a slight purple hue rolled off Ellie in calm waves. The particles moved together to put everything back in place. The gurneys moved back to where they were, all the medical supplies back in their perspective jars and drawers, the files back together and the uniforms hung up again.

As the purple seeped back into Ellie, I glanced at Kara. "How's her stomach?"

"It's fine." Kara said, not lifting the t-shirt. She pulled the bloody gloves off her hands, and threw them in the trash.

Steve was about to take the needle out of his arm, I grabbed his wrist. "Leave it."

"Annie, what's my blood doing to-"

"It's stabilizing her," I explained quickly, making Steve sit back down.

"When you were injected with the serum, it sort of became a baseline, you know? Fixed everythign wrong with you, and designed for the upkeep." I started to explain, letting Ellie's wrists and ankles free. "Ellie's problem is that her entire body is unstable."

I looked across Ellie's sleeping body at the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. through the glass of the infirmary. "You look a little bloody Nick." I said as I wiped my hands off. "Need me to stitch something up?"

"Not my blood, Brightman." Fury responded flatly.

"Who's then?" Kara asked, looking over her shoulder. "Looks like a lot, they're gonna need a transfusion...or six."

"It's Phil's."

I snorted. "No, no that can't be right."

I walked a little closer to the glass wall seperating me and Fury. "'Cause-'Cause if Phil lost that much blood, and-and he wasn't rushed here right away-" I cut myself off.

There was a gurney a few feet from me. I leaned over it, and grasped the metal rail around it tightly as I took slow, deep breaths.

 _Phil was dead_.

* * *

After it finally sunk in that Phil, my first probie, one of my best friends and partners was gone, I went to the training gym and wailed on a punching bag. I got a little fed up after a while, and reached up on top of the bag, lifted my feet up and pulled, yanking the sand-filled bag from the rafter. I fell with it to the floor.

I imagined Loki's stupid face on the bag, and kept going at it.

I declared myself winner when I stabbed the Loki-punching bag with the silver dagger I dug out of my side earlier today. I rolled my shoulders back, and threw the silver knife towards my gym bag.

" _Ellie's up."_ Natasha told me through my earpiece.

"Got it." I responded, unwrapping my hands. I pushed some sweaty hair back, and took my earbud out. After digging around in my bag, I pulled out a sat. phone. Pulling the antenna up, I dialed and walked to the one dead spot on the helicarrier.

" _Good afternoon, Anna_."

"Hey Charlie," I said, smiling a little. He made it a point to be as polite as he could be, to show just how many manners I lost. "Why on earth did you give Ellie a ride to the city this morning?"

" _Despite what you may think, Ellenore has improved dramatically_."

"Considering how wide a range her powers have, dramatically isn't good enough." I told him, frowning. "She's in bad shape here; they know she's a mutant."

" _Ah_."

"She stays here, it's not long before they figure out she has a traceable energy signature." I said, my hand tapping nervously on my thigh. "They could find you guys before the sun goes down."

" _What do you propose?_ "

I thought for a second. "Send your best Charlie. Ellie needs out."

" _Consider it done._ "

"Tell Logan I say hi-oh, and queen to g-8 which means check on him and he owes me a favor."

The man on the other end of the line chuckled breifly. " _I will_."

* * *

 **Ok cupcakes! Here's the next chapter, and MORE WILL BE EXPLAINED IN THE NEXT CHAPTER!**

 **;)**

 **~Christianne**


	9. Chapter 9: Don't Look at Me Like That

***UNEDITED***

* * *

Anna POV

Charlie sent me a message when Ellie was off the carrier. My plan was to hide out in the gym so if Nick wanted to talk I'd have weapons in easy reach.

Way back when, before I met Dr. Erskine and still lived with my dad and brothers, we used to visit the Xaviers every few weekends; both fathers liked booze a bit too much. My brothers would skeet shoot off the back porch. I would end up babysitting Charlie.

After the war, I stopped by around Christmas and Charles' and Raven's birthdays. One time I brought them to a lab I had in a city. I gave Raven a bunny rabbit that I'd genetically engineered to turn bright pink when it was awake (it returned to fluffy white when it slept). Charlie, though...He said that trip was what solidified his interest in genetics.

After he was shot in the back in '69, I came back. I explained how I never really died in 1952, and offered my help. I used my frequent travels for Stark Industries and S.H.I.E.L.D. to help him find young mutants in need of guidance. Ellie was one of the first full-time students. I brought her there in the late '70s and she lived there still.

I didn't know who Charlie sent to get Ellie, and honestly, right now, I _didn't care_.

I hadn't rewrapped my hands since my sat. call; I was going at a different bag with bare knuckles. Every punch gave me a flash of what Loki brought out.

Hearing half of HYDRA _wasn't_ captured, and that my work was far from done.

The face of Carlos as he was dragged away after I _promised_ him and his family safety.

Penny's crying face when Martin backhanded her.

The one time I saw Kára cry.

Rebecca's face when the twins enlisted; after I told her they would never be forced to serve.

Tommy's unresponsive body in Vietnam, and Jimmy screaming both in pain and horror for his best friend.

Telling their parents how they died.

When I looked over my shoulder and saw 23 men with gunshot wounds to the head; all my doing.

Leaving Alexi in Siberia.

Finally getting Alexi's body _back_ from Siberia.

Holding Rebecca's shaking hand at Penny's funeral and _knowing_ it was my fault.

The look on Tony's face as he stood over his parent's graves in the rain.

 _The last time I saw Bucky_.

I let out half a roar as I gave the punching bag a final hit.

I grabbed it with my bloody hands and pressed my forehead to it.

"Don't cry." I whispered to myself, grabbing his dog tags with one hand. "C'mon Brightman...Don't cry. Don't cry. _Don't cry_."

"Annie."

I jolted away from the punching bag, and spun to see Steve. I sniffled sharply, and used my shoulder to wipe my eyes; my hands were bloody.

"What Steve?" I asked, walking to my bag.

"We're goin' after Loki." He said, taking a few steps slower.

"You found him?" I asked, wiping blood off my hands with a towel; Steve nodded.

"I'm in."

* * *

I didn't know Phil had input on my suit like he had on Steve's. It was just like Natasha's or anyone else's, but there was a blue 8-pointed star on the back. The topmost point was at the top of my suit, the bottom point ended at the bottom of my spine. The other points curved around my shoulders and sides. He was always a little dramatic.

There was nothing wrong with my normal suit, but I was going to wear it. For Phil.

Phil started out in data analysis. On a mission in Russia, I requested he be my eyes and ears since he'd been working on that region for a few years. After that, he was the voice in my earpiece for almost half a decade. I gave him the well-deserved promotion six years in; he was a top level field agent for years. When he got his own team, I made him a cake. I tried to get him on as many missions as I could; he was one of my best friends.

I'd never go on a mission with Phil again; I knew that one would take _years_ to sink in.

Fifteen minutes later, I was walking with Clint, Tasha and Steve.

"I like the new outfit, Brightman."

" _Can it_ , Barton." I said, struggling not to smile. Barely took any effort to get a plane; no one wanted to mess with Captain America. Clint and Tasha were about to take off, when someone yelled 'Hey! Wait for me!'

Kára hopped into the plane. I rolled my eyes, and the rest of the people in the plane looked at Kára in shock. She smiled. "Hey, I was fighting things like this before you people were even an idea in your parent's heads. You _need me_."

"She's right," I smiled, pulling on a pair of fingerless gloves. "We do need her."

While the assassins flew, I put together my backpack.

"When did PX become standard on planes?" I asked, grabbing a brick of the blue plastic explosive. Howard and I came up with PX in the 50s; one brick had the same power as _18_ bricks of C4. Steve gave me a bit on an odd look, but I guess I earned it. I _was_ throwing plastic explosives and blasting caps into a backpack.

"Three years ago, give or take." Natasha called over her shoulder.

"Stark, we're on your 3 headed north east." Natasha said through coms.

" _What? Did you stop for drive through?_ " Tony half-yelled at her. " _Swing up Park. I'm gonna lay'em out for 'ya_."

"That's my que." I said, hoisting the backpack onto my shoulders.

"Where do you want us to drop you?" Clint asked.

"Surprise me." I said, smiling. This was the _exciting_ part.

"Anna, what are you doing?" Steve asked in that authoritative voice of his.

"One thing you still have to figure out about the new me, Steve." I said, walking towards the opening bay door. I gave him a smile over my shoulder, and jumped.

" _Don't worry when I go off on my own._ " I said, in midair, through coms.

* * *

Omniscient POV

Anna lept from the plane as it dipped over a rooftop. She rolled twice when she hit the ground, and slid to a stop a few inches from the edge of the roof. She grinned again and started running.

" _Annie, are you alright?"_

"Just a sec Stevie." Anna said, leaping from one building to the next. She landed hard, and quickly righted herself. "All good."

She paused for a second. "And don't call me _Annie_! We're on a mission, Steve. _Codenames_. Use code names on a mission."

" _Do you even_ _ **have**_ _a code name?_ "

"Nope!" Anna said, smirking slightly. "One a'ya better think of one soon though..." She trailed off and looked towards the sky. "Cause we gotta problem here."

" _Blondie's right_." Tony chipped in, weaving through the buildings expertly. " _We gotta_ _ **big**_ _problem_."

Chitauri were on Tony's tail.

"I need 50 seconds, Tony." Anna said, taking six bricks of PX out. Expertly, she took out six round, metallic black disks, about three inches long. She pressed the red button on one end, and four spokes shot out the other end. She jammed it into the PX and threw them back in her bag.

" _Coming your way._ " Tony said.

Anna had a brick in each hand. "I need them within 20 yards."

" _On it._ "

The first alien that was in throwing distance was her target. Anna wound an arm back, and pressed the red button on the blasting cap the moment she threw it. The brick grazed the alien's flying... _thing_ , and the blastings cap gave it's final beep. It exploded, taking another one down with it.

" _Nice work, Brightman._ " Tony complimented as he pulled up quick, sending one of the Chitauri into a stone wall.

"Not a problem, Stark." Anna responded, already throwing the next brick.

" _Do you_ _ **always**_ _throw explosives?_ " Steve asked, chuckling slightly.

"Only when I have them on **hand**." Anna grunted the last word, throwing another brick. "I'm resourceful."

" _And she likes blowing crap up._ " Kára put in.

"Uh, who _doesn't_ like blowing crap up?" Anna countered, readying more bricks.

Anna went through her explosives fairly quickly, and turned her attention to the fire escape. She paused on a platform outside a window, and put two fingers to her ear; her earbud was coming loose.

"I'm out of PX." She said, continuing her decent. "Gonna see what the deal is with civilians."

" _Have your gun?_ " Natasha asked.

"Aw, I _knew_ there was something I forgot!" Anna huffed, smiling as she landed on the ground.

" _You're going into this unarmed?_ " Steve demanded.

"Just a sec Rogers." Anna dismissed. One alien was flying low; she'd be an _idiot_ to miss the opportunity. She grabbed the lid of a trashcan, and readied herself.

"Tony, I need you." She said.

" _That's flattering, but I don't think now is the time._ " Tony said, distracted, as he flew towards Anna. Once he was in her line of sight (less than two seconds after she asked) Anna threw the trash can lid. It nailed the Chitauri in the head, and knocked it off course.

Tony's Iron Man suit lifted a taxi up, and acted like a backboard for the alien. Then, Iron Man crushed the thing _with_ the taxi.

"Sorry," Anna said, directing her words to Steve. "You were saying?"

" _Be careful_." Was all she got in response.

Anna grinned, and took off running. "Kára, I need you as soon as I can."

" _I'm flattered Annie, but now really isn't the time_." Kára said, mimicking Tony's words.

Anna was behind an overturned bus, taking cover as she caught her breath. "One'a these days..." She trailed off, thinking about a nice little cottage in the Swiss Alps.

Once, she'd made the mistake of saying 'I'm too old for this' while on a mission. TJ didn't _want_ to let it go, but Anna _made_ him. But, not before the little smartass told Coulson, who _refused_ to let it go.

A massive crash snapped Anna out of her daze. She ran towards it, and met up with the four others exiting the crashed Quinjet. Wasting no time, she ran with them; Anna smoothly caught the gun Tasha tossed her way.

There was a loud groan. It was somewhere between metal bending and a humpback whale, to Kára's ear, at least. The five heroes stopped, and watched the black hole in the sky.

It was the size of a battleship, with skeletal armor over it's fish-like body. It swam through the air, shooting off more Chitauri warriors.

"Stark, you seein' this?" Steve asked, watching the creature.

" _Seeing_." Tony confirmed. " _Still working on believing_."

" _Lindworm_." Kara breathed.

Anna looked between her best friend, and the creature that she was staring at. "Do you know what that _thing_ is?" She asked.

Kára watched the sky in horror. "I...I thought they were all _dead_. Asgard fought them and their keepers centuries ago...Before I was born."

"How do we kill it?" Natasha asked.

Kára snapped out of her trance, and shook her head. "Only Odin had the power to harm them." She said with a frown. "Earth could be on fire, and the All-Father wouldn't bat an eye...He won't get out of bed for a _lindworm_."

" _Where's Banner?_ " Tony asked.

"Banner?" Anna asked, a little confused. Didn't Bruce fall out of the Helicarrier? Sure, he was the Other Guy when he fell, but could he survive falling 60,000 feet?

" _Keep me posted_." Tony demanded.

Chitturi flew over their heads. Not three seconds after, a subway stop exploded.

" _We got civilians trapped_." Clint yelled.

"We got them," Anna said, glancing at Kára. Steve, even though he tried not to, sent her a worried look.

"Hey," Anna half-yelled as a car flew over their heads. She stared into Steve's eyes and nodded once. " _I got this_." Steve nodded once, and the blondes turned and ran.

Between the two of them, they forced bus doors open, shuffled people into underground spaces, and threw whatever they could at the flying aliens.

"Just like the Kremlin, huh?" Kára groaned.

"Which time?" Anna asked, helping a child out of a car.

"When did you take all those files?" Kára asked, using a discarded jacket to mop up blood from a man's face.

"Pretty sure I did that more than once." Anna admitted.

" _You stole files from the Kremlin more than once?_ " Tony asked.

"I'll tell you about it later." Anna said with a shrug.

"C'mon!" Kára yelled, waving people to a intact subway station. They should be pretty safe underground. "Anna! I need you to keep them off my back!"

She was already putting a round in the chamber. "Consider it done."

* * *

Secretaries can type without looking, because the action is so repetitive and mind numbing they don't have to think about it.

To Anna, that's what happened when she fought. It was _repetitive_ and _mind numbing_.

Other people who fought tried to think seven moves ahead. They fought to _win_.

Anna had a much more basic motive. She fought to survive, and to help others survive.

Winning was just a bonus.

 _And_ it was pretty fun sometimes.

Like when she lept from a second story balcony and landed on a Chitauri's shoulders. Anna wrapped her legs around it's neck, locking her knees under the chin. As it flew, she grabbed hold of a sign (for Bob's All Night Bodega) and left momentum do the rest.

There was a loud snap, the Chitauri's neck, and the little ship it was flying went wild and crashed to the ground. Anna swung from the sign like an expert gymnast, and landed on her feet. She rolled under a car, and used a pocket knife to pry the gas tank out.

She's told a few cops to do the same; the last thing they needed was a bunch of gas explosions on the ground. Anna rolled out from under the car and took off running. Anna threw the gas tank at a passing alien.

" _Tasha! Got hot one comin' your way!_ "

"See it." Natasha said, taking aim. She fired one shot; it just grazed the alien's flying thing and ignited the gas. It burst into flames with a sickening screech and lost control of the flying thing; it flew into another alien.

Anna sighed. " _I love that one._ "

"You love any plan that let's you light stuff on fire." Natasha countered.

" _You know what? You're_ _ **right**_ _!_ " Anna admitted. " _Think these bitches can take a Molotov Cocktail?_ "

"A what?" Steve asked. He paused to fling his shield at a Chitturi warrier, knocking it over the edge of the overpass. "Annie what's a _malitove_ cocktail?"

" _It's Mol-o-tov, Steve_." Anna corrected. " _The Finns came up with it during the Winter War. A poor man's grenade_."

"Yeah, but what is it?" Steve asked again, bringing a finger to his ear.

" _You'll see_ ," Clint said from his spot on a roof. " _You'll smell it first, but you'll see._ "

Anna, a few blocks away, ducked into a bar. She took a second to right herself, and took in the dark wood paneled bar. It was mostly men in the bar; they were all huddled behind the counter.

"You guys alright?" Anna asked, yanking the hair-tie from her blonde ponytail; one of the Chitauri had yanked it pretty hard.

None of the men said anything. "Hello _oooo_?" She asked, waving her arms slightly; a few snapped out of the daze. "Any of you hurt?" Anna asked slowly.

They shook their heads.

"Good," Anna nodded, taking the pocket knife from her belt and flicking it open. A few men flinched, making Anna roll her eyes.

"I need all the bottles of hard liquor you got." She half-yelled, beginning to use her knife to rip the table cloths into strips. "Vodka is best. Absinthe and bourbon are alright...A bottle of whisky too. The older the better."

No one moved.

"Hey, now." She ordered them.

One man in a black t-shirt, the bartender, shakily brought a few guys to the back room and started grabbing cases of liquor. The other men started with the opened bottles, bringing them to the table Anna was in front of.

"H-Here," a younger man said, holding out a bottle of 45-year-old whisky to Anna.

She took the bottle, and gave him a suspicious look. "How old are you?"

He swallowed. "N-Nineteen."

Anna took a long swig from the bottle and held it out to the 19-year-old. "That's old enough, here. It'll take the edge off."

Anna began stuffing strips of table cloth into the mouths of the bottles, and a few guys started doing the same. She noticed a lot of the guys had the same bracelet; a braided lanyard thing with a clay bead painted blue with a purple _J_ in the middle. She also noticed they weren't too smart; stuffed wallets in back pockets and t-shirts with their first and last names on the back, under another purple _J_.

"So, whatcha guys doin' in the city?" She asked, trying to get them to calm down. They just looked at Anna, confused. " _Clearly_ , you're not from here," Anna elaborated.

"Our-Our friend Jason died." One of the guys, the one with the tattoo, said as he pulled _Grey Goose_ bottles from a cardboard box and yanked tops off. "He's from the city...Talked 'bout this place all the time."

"Sorry," Anna said off-handedly. "You guys all grow up here?"

"No." Another guys said. "We go to the same community college in Maine...Met on the baseball team."

Anna put down the pocket knife and bottle. "You're all _baseball players_?"

All nine men in the bar, including the bartender, nodded.

They all looked confused as Anna began smiling and giggling. "Aliens are raining down from the sky and it's still my _lucky_ **goddamn** _day_!"

* * *

" _Tony! Bring as many as you can down 28th. Fly low._ "

"On it Twinkles." Tony responded, making a hairpin turn towards 28th.

" _Twinkles_?" Anna repeated flatly.

"Yeah, you know, 'cause _Brightman_ is your last name." Tomy said, smiling to himself.

" _That is terribly uncreative_."

"Short notice." Tony said dismissively. "Turning onto 28th now."

" _We'll be ready_."

"' _We?_ '" Tony asked.

"Yup," Anna smiled, tying a blue bandanna around her nose and mouth. She'd raided an overturned tourist stand for a bandanna for the guys too; the smoke was gonna get pretty thick. "Me and the starting players for the Kennebec Valley Community College baseball team."

"What are you and a do-nothing _baseball_ team gunna do?" Tony asked.

" _Set shit on fire._ " Anna said simply.

When Tony brought the Chitauri to the small bar on 28th, he heard Anna yell ' _NOW!_ '

Bottles flew from the street to the aliens, and exploded into fire. Sick screeching, not unlike nails on a chalkboard, came from behind Tony as one 90+ year old spy/chemist, eight community college baseball players and one bartender threw Molotov Cocktails at the Chitauri.

* * *

All the Avengers could hear Anna laugh and give a triumphant _Woo!_

Kára, watching the block Anna and the baseball team, smirked as she saw her emerge from the smoke. Like a action hero, Anna walked confidently out of the fire-filled block. Without looking, Anna lit the rag in the bottle of bright green Absinthe and threw it at an incoming Chitauri. The second it was in the air, she took her gun from the thigh holster and fired at a burning alien, bringing it down.

"A bit dramatic, don't'cha think Annie?" Kára asked once she was in earshot.

All Kára could see were lines wrinkle around Anna's eyes and what she could see of her nose wrinkle as well; she was smiling. "Hey, I'm old enough to be dramatic," Anna countered from under her blue bandanna.

Kára was about to laugh, but it was cut off in a sharp gasp. The former Valkyrie fell to her knees, a hand to her side while the other kept her off the ground.

"Kára!" Anna screamed, running towards her best friend. She ducked the blue beams from the Chitauris' guns and skidded to a stop next to Kára. "Hey! Hey, what happened?"

" _Stupid, low creatures,_ " Kára spit out, gritting her teeth. She didn't wear the S.H.I.E.L.D. issue suits like Natasha and Anna (though theirs had personalized touches); Kára wore black jeans, boots and a tank top. She said more layers gave her more to move around when fighting, which Anna doubted, since she'd never seen Kára come _close_ to losing a fight.

"Get me Thor!" Kára ground out.

" _What?_ " Anna asked, her eyebrows raising; Kára had demanded to be 100 feet from the god at all times back on the helicarrier.

Anna was flung back by a bright yellow light. She skidded across the ground on her back, and was looking at the sky wide wide eyes; she was unable to move or speak from the massive amount of pain she was in. Anna had been trying desperately to show Steve that he didn't need to worry about or protect her.

And now, he was helping her up. Steve wouldn't let go of her; his arm was locked around her shoulders and Anna _knew_ that there wasn't a way to squirm out of it unless she shot Steve three or ten times in the ribs.

The yellow light was still pulsing. Anna looked over her shoulder (and Steve's) and saw Thor standing with his hammer thrust towards Kára. The yellow light was coming from _Mjölnir_.

" _What are you doing to her?_ " Anna screamed from under her bandanna. A scream pierced the air before the god could answer.

Windows shattered.

Chitauri fell from the air.

Steve finally let go of Anna and pressed his hands to his ears; the sound must have been at _least_ three or four times worse for him than for her. Heightened senses and all.

The scream finally stopped, and the light disappeared. Thor swung his hammer, and flew into the air.

" _What the hell was that?_ " Clint asked through coms; he was still up on the roof.

Kára got up, and stood on the debris.

"Did she always have those?" Steve asked. He was referring to the massive, golden wings on Kára's back.

Anna didn't have time to speak, before a high pitched crack, paired with a bright flash made everyone flinch (and about 16 Chitauri fall from the sky). Kára was gone.

Steve hadn't noticed Anna had gone until he heard her voice in coms.

" _We got a Valkyrie on our side now. You can do all that stupid crap you used to, 'cause we got someone to bring you back."_

* * *

Anna POV

After Kára got her wings back, the first thing I did was run to Stark Tower to help Tasha with the portal. The elevators were busted, so I had to take the stairs. When I made it to the penthouse, I stopped dead.

 _The Hulk._

The Hulk was in the Stark Tower penthouse, staring down at Loki, who was in a large divot on the floor. I couldn't hold in a smile; someone finally taught him some manners.

I stopped smiling when the massive green guy turned to me with grunt. As I took a stumbling step back, the Other Guy's brows furrowed and his small black eyes narrowed. His lip curled as he leaned towards me.

I held my hands out like I was trying to calm a wild animal. "Hey now...Take it easy big guy," I said slowly.

He took one lunging step forward and gave a sound somewhere between a snarl and a growl.

"Hey!" I yelped. I still had one hand out towards the Hulk while the other fought with the knot of my bandanna. I gave up and yanked it down over my nose and mouth.

"You know me!" I insisted desperately.

In a calmer voice, I repeated the statement. "You know me."

I glanced at Loki, still painfully on the floor. I slowly pulled the dagger Loki stabbed me with earlier and held it in the air. "I showed this to Banner earlier." I stated, then nodded towards the window.

" _Go smash_."

Like when Captain America said it, the green guy grunted and gave his equivalent of a smile before leaping from the window.

I lazily went to Loki, and gave a light kick to his foot. He groaned in pain, and opened his eyes. Weakly, one side of his mouth tugged up. His chest briefly rose and fell quicker; I think he was laughing.

"My _Valkyrie_...Come to take me to the fields of Valhalla?" Loki breathed.

I scoffed. "There's a Valkyrie around here, but I'm not her."

Loki's expression changed. His brows raised and his eyes widened. "Do you truly feel nothing for me?" He said softly.

"Oh, I feel stuff," I said, crossing my arms and cocking my hip. I saw a flicker of hope in his eyes. "Hatred. Anger. Disgust. _Pity_."

"You care for me." Loki insisted, his voice firmer. "When you first came to Asgard, I could see it in your eyes...You _cared_ for me."

I flipped the dagger in my hand, and squatted down by Loki's side. "Yeah...I care."

He smiled, his eyes and face welling with relief and some twisted form of love.

"I care for the man who made my paper bird fly." I clarified, making his brows draw together. "I _do not_ have any _good_ feelings about the man who brainwashed me and one of my closest friends, made me kill S.H.I.E.L.D. agents and say-say _awful_ things to a man who _didn't deserve it._ "

"Now," I said, standing and pulling my bandanna over my mouth and nose again. "If you so much as _lift your head_ , I'll shove your own dagger through your throat."

The beaten god looked up at me like the sun rose and set over my head.

I gave him a harsh slap to the face, and grabbed his chin so he was facing me. "And _don't look at me like that._ "

He chuckled as best he could. "This is why I love you, Lady Anna...You have been through death and destruction, more of it than any person should...And you've _beaten_ it."

His dagger embedded itself in his stomach. He whimpered, and closed his hands over the dagger. Blood pooled over his hands as he looked up at me with yet another expression; betrayal and shock.

"I _hope you die_." I said thickly.

I wanted to yell at him more, but voices through coms. got my attention.

"Clint!" I yelled, two fingers to my ear. "What-What the hell is Tony doing?" I asked, wiping my face with my free hand just incase tears came out.

Clint answered right away. " _They were going to nuke Manhattan...Tony's flying it through the portal_."

" **What?** " I yelled, eyes wide. "Where is he now? Who ordered the _nuclear strike?_ " I asked anyone who was listening as I ran down the steps.

I skidded to a halt when I passed a tech room.

* * *

"Tony, do you read me?" I asked, running down the steps with a massive box under one arm.

" _Brightman?_ " Tony asked. He didn't sound good at all. " _How-How the hell-?_ "

"I knew your dad for thirty-plus years, you may hate me but I'm pretty smart," I paused and adjusted the grip on the large black box, a signal booster. "I wanted to make sure you're ok."

" _I have a nuke in space and I can't reach Pepper. How do you_ _ **think**_ _I'm doing?_ " Tony snapped; his voice wavered at the end.

"Once upon a time there was a princess named Belle." I said, finally getting out of Stark Tower and onto the street.

" _What?_ " Tony asked, getting more and more anxious.

"Her father, the king, liked her brothers better. He sent her away to a far off land." I continued.

" _What the hell are you doing?_ " Tony half-yelled.

"I haven't seen you in almost 40 years, Tony. The last time I saw you, you were four years old; you had the flu, remember? I told you a bedtime story? You said it was your favorite...Iwrote it down so your mother could tell it to you?" I asked, leaned on the wall of Stark Tower. I had cover from an overturned bus and my gun at the ready.

There was silence. "Tony?" I said desperately, looking at the signal booster.

" _You made me chicken soup_."

I smiled sadly. "Yeah...Tony I haven't been there, ok? I haven't done what I should have, and _this_ is all I can do, so let me do it, alright?"

He paused. " _So...What about the princess?_ "

* * *

 **January 1974**

 **7:45 am**

 _"What's his name?" Tony blurted out._

 _"Hm?"_

 _"What's the very good man's name?"_

 _I paused, and took a shakey breath._

 _"They very good man who rescued the princess, his name is Bucky."_

 _"Hm." Tony mumbled, hutting the stuffed koala._

 _"Want me to start over?' I asked, smiling._

 _"Yes please Abie." Tony said sweetly, grinning up at me; he knew I couldn't say no to him when he used real manners._

 _"Once upon a time, there was a princess named Belle. Her father, the king, liked her brothers better, and sent her away to a far off land." I started again._

_-~0O0~-_

 _"...Belle and Bucky lived a long and happy life together...and-"_

 _"They lived happily ever after!" Tony yawned._

* * *

"And..." I trailed off.

Silence.

" _And_..." I said again.

"C'mon Tony! Answer me!" I yelled, pointing my gun to to left to fire two shots at a Chitauri. "Damnit- _Tony_!"

A deafening roar from the Hulk made me look up. The massive green man was scaling the buildings roughly, leaping closer to a bright light falling from the closed portal. The Hulk jumped up and grabbed the light from the air. He held the light in one arm, and used the other to slow himself on the tall building.

I was by Steve when the Hulk dropped the light onto the ground. Kára groaned and rolled away from the other person once she hit the ground. I raised my eyebrows. "Nice outfit." I commented weakly.

Kára wasn't in her black-on-black attire anymore; she was in some amazingly well crafted gold, armored dress. "If you're nice I'll let you try it on later." She sounded distracted, her eyes on something else.

Steve grabbed me out of the way when Thor flung something behind him. A shaky breath left my mouth as I saw who else the Hulk had saved.

 _Tony_.

"I-I tried to save him." Kára insisted, wide eyed. "I-I'm not-I'm used to the wings yet...They-They're weak." She stammered, pressing a hand to Tony's head; her palm over his forehead and fingers under the Iron Man suit that covered his head.

The Hulk suddenly stamped one foot like a small child and let out a loud roar.

Tony jolted awake with a gasp. Kára grinned, and close her eyes. Tony abruptly stopped gasping, and calmly looked around.

"What happened?" He asked, looking around. "Please tell me nobody kissed me!"

I smiled, a hand over my mouth. I was fighting tears by this point.

Steve smiled slightly before answering him.

" _We won_."

* * *

 **Well, sorry for the wait. I've been goin' through some stuff...For the last few weeks, I've been on some anti-depression meds, which really messed my head up. I'm off those, and on different ones which are really helping me. I'm ok now. I _promise_. :)**

 **I've written a few different versions of this chapter, and s** **ince I was feeling so much better, I sat down and wrote this in one go. It's not my favorite, but all six versions I wrote were pretty difficult.**

 **Now, two things:**

 **~The fairy tale Anna told 4-year-old Tony; I kinda wrote the whole thing. It's kinda like a fairy tale AU with pretty much all the Avengers in it. You guys wanna read it?**

 **~I'm going to have one more chapter following the Avengers plot, then I'm going to have a few to fill in some gaps before I get into the Winter Soldier. So, I was thinking; are there any sorta-kinda crossovers you guys would like to see? Like, Anna kicking ass with Sam and Dean Winchester, Anna showing up at 221B Baker Street early in the morning, Anna showing up in the White Collar division of the FBI and 'borrowing' Neal Caffery-Literally _any_ TV show or movie. Once I get into the Winter Soldier, it's gonna get pretty angsty and sad, so I thought I'd put in some fun stuff first. Thoughts?**

 **~Anna's superhero name?**

 **GIVE ME YOUR THOUGHTS MY LITTLE CUPCAKES! Review! ;)**

 **~Christianne**


	10. Chapter 10: Anna Shot a Nazi in the Ass

Anna POV

"Hey, you gunna eat that?" Kára asked, then grabbed my remaining bazlama. I just laughed once as she wolfed it down.

"What?" Kára asked, some of the flat bread hanging out of her mouth. "I'm _hungry_ , ok? I'm a Valkyrie again! We eat, like, twice as much as _him_!" She gestured wildly to Thor, who paused in stuffing his face to glance at Kára and me.

Clint and Natasha both gave a small reaction; just a small laugh through the nose.

After that, it was _silent_.

It was totally quiet aside from the sound of a bunch of people eating.

Steve was just _tired_. He picked at the heaping plate of food I'd set in front of him and stare off into space. Just like old times; me giving him a crap ton of food and expecting him to eat it all.

Tony was still in a state of shock, as he should be. I'd be concerned if he wasn't staring into space like Steve with his eyes wide and glassy.

Thor was stuffing his face like Kára. Bruce was, surprisingly, eating a lot too. Earlier, Kára commented on it; apparently the Other Guy needed a _lot_ of calories.

Natasha and Clint had taken up half of each others chairs, and were eating off each others plates. Over all, they were unrattled. Just a little concerned about the _aliens_.

I was the only relatively neutral one. Aliens were the _weirdest_ thing I've fought yet, but this wasn't my weirdest, or most strenuous _battle_.

After swallowing, Kára spoke up. "Did any of you know, that in 1946, Anna shot a Nazi in the ass?"

Steve looked up from his plate, eyebrows raised and face a mask of shock.

Bruce laughed once.

Thor clearly didn't know what a Nazi was.

Natasha just raised her eyebrows.

Clint grinned as he stole some of Tasha's börek.

"Annie did _what_?" Steve asked, chuckling.

"Where _the hell_ did _that_ come from?" I asked her, frowning.

"It came from _we just defeated a god and his alien army and we should be_ _ **celebrating**_. But since we're _not_ , I'll settle from some laughs." Kára paused to take a drink of her Sprite. "So, I repeat; did you know, that in 1946, _Anna shot a Nazi in the ass_?"

Steve was gaping at me, while Clint was leaning back in his chair laughing, and everyone else was in between.

"I _did not_ shoot a Nazi in the ass!" I defended myself. Kára scoffed, and Steve, somehow, raised his eyebrows higher.

I rolled my eyes and started the story.

"I was with the Commandos in Belgium, taking down a base with the Army. One of them thought it'd be a _good idea_ to take off running through a field, even though he knew Allies were all around it. I grabbed a rifle, fired a few times and, _yes_ ," I admitted. "I _did_ hit him in the _buttocks_."

" _You shot him in the-_ "

I cut Steve off.

"I was aiming for his _head_!" I said defensively, while everyone started to laugh. Even Thor; Kára must have told him what a Nazi was.

"Oh, like _you've_ never done _anything_ like that!" I snapped at Kára.

"I've done _a lot_ of stuff, but I've _never_ shot a Nazi in the ass!" Kára laughed.

"You were _arrested_ in '73, remember _that_?" I asked, making her frown. "Yeah, you were arrested when you elbowed a cop in the nose!"

"He called me a _hippie_!" Kára said defensively.

"You had flowers in your hair and a peace sign around your neck! You _were_ a hippie!"

"Fine! Say I _was_ a hippie; I wouldn't have been protesting if you just _let me go with you_!"

"To _Vietnam_? It was a _reconnaissance_ mission, Kar! You can't go on a mission without snapping necks!"

"I can to go on a mission without snapping necks!"

"Really? Cause I've never seen it!"

By now, even Tony was laughing. Steve was laughing the most; probably because he couldn't imagine me holding a rifle and shooting a Nazi in the ass.

In fact, he was laughing so much I gave him a light kick under the table. "It's _not funny_!"

He was laughing to hard to respond.

Soon, I was too.

"At least you were armed with the Nazi," Natasha said, taking deep breaths to slow her laughing. "Remember going up against those Pakistani militants? You only had a _knife_."

"Oh _please_ , you could have taken them out with that knife too!" I laughed.

"You should _always_ be armed," Natasha huffed.

" _Right_ , I'll go put a gun in my underwear drawer." I scoffed. "Right between my fancy panties and matching bras."

"Why don't you have a gun there?" Natasha questioned me.

"I have two things to say to that. One, because if anyone came after me in my bedroom, I'd kill them with my bare hands, I wouldn't need a gun in my underwear drawer." I said as I took another bite.

"You said you had two things," Steve put in, grinning.

I nodded and swallowed. Looking right at Tasha, I spoke. After I did, everyone laughed twice as hard.

"It's not _fucking_ ladylike."

* * *

I rapped on the glass with my knuckles before I pushed the massive steel door open. "Hey there _sweetiepie_." I said with a sickly sweet tone to my voice.

Since the glass cage _clearly_ didn't hold Loki, it was plan B. Under the NYC S.H.I.E.L.D. base, there was row of cells. Each had three feet of reinforced steel alloy around all six sixes, and tons and tons of cement and rock above that. There was only seven of them, since they were so rarely used.

Loki was muzzled and chained in the middle of the cell. He had enough room to walk around the 10-foot-square cell, but chose to remain right in the middle. He turned his head away from the glass (which appeared to be a mirror to him) to face me.

"I just wanted to see you all locked up." I said, gesturing to his whole body. I put my hands on my hips and sighed. "I asked Kára if she wanted to see you."

It was only a small change, but Loki's cheek twitched.

He'd been stripped of his armor; the leather and metal were gone. He was standing in leather trousers and a green tunic, with those odd-looking boots that came up his calves.

"She said she didn't want to see you anymore." I informed him, walking around the cell. "Said she wanted to remember you as the man you were...Not the _twisted_ man you became."

I was behind him now; pressed the small button on the small remote in my palm. The device around Loki's mouth folded in on itself until it hung over his ears.

As Loki took a few deep breaths, I put my hand on his shoulder to lean towards his ear. " _One chance_. Say you're sorry and I'll give my recommendation to Thor that you should, you know, not be _killed_."

It took a second for Loki to answer.

"The only thing I am sorry for, is how I've driven you away."

The words were barely out of his mouth before I smacked him upside the head.

I grabbed his chin roughly and force him to turn around. "I was never yours to drive away!" I half-growled in his face. I pushed him back; the chains barely jangled; my shove barely did anything.

"I want to make something _abundantly_ clear to you, Loki!" I hollered at him. "I. Am. Not. _Yours_!"

"But you _are_ , my darling," he said softly. "Since I saw you in the gardens of Asgard, you have been _mine_."

I couldn't hold it back; I gave him a hard kick in the stomach he stumbled back a few steps. I gave him another one. After a punch to the jaw and one more to his 'royal jewels', he landed against the wall with a huff. He raised his chained hands to wipe blood from his lip with his thumb. Oddly enough, he chuckled.

"The years have not done the slightest to dampen your _fire_." Loki said, propping himself up on his elbows. "It burns as bright as the moment I first saw you."

I leaned down and grabbed the (unfortunately soft and amazing) material of his tunic and raised it a little so I was in his face. _Mental side note: ask Kara what material Asgardians wore, and if I could get my hands on some._

" _I'm not yours._ " I spat.

I threw him down, and reached into my S.H.I.E.L.D. suit to yank out the dog tags I wore. "I am _his_."

"You saw _everything_ in my head." I said, my anger growing with every word. "You saw every moment, every touch, every 'I love you,' every dance, every _kiss_ -and you're still holding onto the _diluted_ idea that you and I are _meant to be_ or _whatever_."

"I'm not your _lady_. I'm not your _dear_. I'm not your _Midgardian angel_ -I'm the _broken_ girl who showed up in your garden and tried to _help you_. Clearly I didn't do a good job. If I had, you and Thor would have best friend bracelets. Instead my home is in _ruins_."

"You blame yourself," Loki breathed, his eyes widening. "No. No, no my dear Anna-Do not blame yourself!"

"Oh _shut up_!" I groaned. "If I wanted to hear that, I would have come in here _crying_. I want to hear you _say it_."

Loki's dark brows furrowed. "Say what?"

" _I'm not yours_."

His brows furrowed further, a deep crease became clear between his eyes. His mouth was slack in shock as he looked up at me. If he was trying to get the sympathy vote, he wasn't gonna get it from me. I stared down at him relentlessly.

"I am the god of lies, Anna," he finally spoke, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he was fighting a smirk. "After all I have done...What makes you believe that I would speak this as the truth?"

I squatted down next to him, not batting an eye. "You haven't lied to me yet." I reasoned, shrugging slightly. "And if you really felt something for me, _you will not lie_."

We stared at each other for a few moments. Loki was wide eyed in disbelief. My own expression was harsh and emotionless.

Eventually, he spoke.

"You...You are not mine." His voice was barely over a whisper.

I gave him another sweet smile as I stood.

"See'ya in Hell, sweetiepie," I cooed, spinning on a heel and started towards the door.

"Anna?" Loki called when I was halfway to the door. " _Anna_! Anna-My love, _wait-_ "

Once I was past the threshold, I pressed the button on the remote again, locking the muzzle over Loki's jaw.

I slammed the door behind me, and didn't look back.

I saw Steve leaning on the wall of the elevator. "Feel better?" He asked simply.

I sighed, and got into the elevator next to him. I pressed the button repeatedly until the doors shut and the elevator was zooming up to the main floors.

"Putting a few bullets in his brain would make me feel better." I mumbled, crossing my arms. "But I'll settle for this."

* * *

Steve was at the gym.

We got debriefed, and he went to the gym. After he got some food in 'im, he was good as new.

I on the other hand, went home.

I slammed my industrial door behind me, and turned on the high-tech security system I barely used; I didn't have it in me to be on high alert now. I took off the utility belt from around my hips and let it fall to the wooden floor in front of the door.

I numbly walked through my apartment to my sofa. I yanked the boots off my feet and left them there.

I peeled my sweaty, dirty, ripped up S.H.I.E.L.D. suit off my body. I had to lean on the wall and kick to get it off my left foot. In my boyshorts and bloody tank top, I walked to my bathroom.

Of all my houses and all my bathrooms, this one was hands down my favorite. All white tile and glass with a shower that took up more than half the room. The majestic shower with more jets and shower heads that any rational person would have in a shower. I leaned into it and turned it on.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

My hair was snarled and dirty. It was starting to curl on the ends. I still had the blue bandana around my neck.

My tanktop was bloody and ripped from when I fell. My legs and arms were peppered with bruises and abrasions from the fight. My knuckles were scabbed and bloody. The fingerless gloves I'd worn did nothing to protect my already shredded hands while fighting the Chitauri.

 _Jesus Glow...What'd you do to yourself?_

I clutched the dog tags so tight they dug into my palms and left marks.

I stepped into the shower still (partially) dressed, and let the searing hot water pound on my face.

Post traumatic stress disorder is common among victims of domestic violence, military personnel and former drug addicts. Technically speaking, I was all three. I was a little resistant to the drug one, but it was easier to just accept it that fight Kára on it.

It was easier to deal with it when it wasn't being shoved at you.

Most soldiers had, in all, maybe ten, or possible fifteen, years of combat to deal with. In those years, it was one enemy, one war, win or lose.

I had almost 70 years under my belt. Four wars (some people said five). One more to whatever number if you counted today; the _Battle of New York_. And countless missions with no paper trails.

I braced my hands on the tile wall in front of me and pinched my eyes shut.

 _Darlin'...Holding stuff like this in isn't good. You're gonna hurt yourself...I don't wanna see you hurtin' anymore..._

"Shut _up_!" I snapped, pounding my fist against the white tile. I _wanted_ to be pissed off and self-destructive now. I pushed myself against the wall of the shower, and began fighting with the dog tags. Sitting on the floor of my shower, I ripped the ball chain and two ovals off my neck and threw them.

They hit the glass door and fell to the shower floor. The water around them was rust colored from all my wounds.

Hearing him only made me more upset; it reminded me that I was farther and _farther_ from him.

I gave up on being strong.

I cried on the floor of my shower as the water pounded down on me.

I'm not sure how I got this way; I didn't plan on becoming a skilled agent who could kill with a spoon. Once I was back stateside (after I was a witness in the Nuremberg trials), I was plunked in a Stark lab. I had every resource at my disposal and I knew how to forge Howard's signature so well he could look at it and think he signed it; I was _bored_.

I started with some simple self defence, building off what Bucky taught me. Soon I was spending time in Israel with Imi Lichtenfeld and learning the fighting style _Krav Maga_ , and spending time in Russia as a consultant for nuclear weaponry. After Israel, I left the Middle East for South America; I was part of a team that hunted down escaped Nazis.

In 1952, I'd only killed one man directly; the HYDRA agent I shot in the chest when I was escaping Dieter's castle. Indirectly, I was responsible for over a hundred from the Valkyries I detonated there. In January, 1952, that number shot up from one to 73.

My skills with a rifle had improved drastically since I shot a Nazi Corporal in the ass in 1946.

When I closed my eyes, I _saw them_.

Every person I killed or let die.

The bloody necks of throats I cut.

The off-kilter snapped necks.

Bloody holes in heads and chests from bullets, knives, axes and other instruments I've killed with.

Foaming, choking mouths from poisoned people.

The fine spray of blood that came from unsuspecting people from a long distance, large caliber sniper rifle.

Chunks of flesh that flew in the air after an explosion.

One at a time I could manage.

All at once was _suffocating_.

* * *

 **February 14, 1956**

 _I'd just gotten back from Vietnam. I hadn't even taken a shower yet. I was still covered in tropical sweat and a few drops of blood; I had to see him. It was his day._

 _I was gone so frequently now that I didn't have time to sit by his grave and just talk like I wanted too. I hadn't been in the states since 1950._

 _I was, as Howard said,_ _ **being the unsung hero of the world**_ _._

 _It'd been ten years since he died._

 _Ten years._

 _A_ _ **decade**_ _._

 _I did my own blood work every week. I told Howard, and anyone who asked, it was to see if there was any cellular change that would make me start aging again. Technically, it was true._

 _I was looking for signs that I would die._

 _In my blood, I was looking for markers of age that would show me I would die soon. But the only thing I got was the healthy, immune blood of a 25-year-old. I wanted to know that if I did my job, retired and got old like everyone else, I would die and see him again._

 _I hadn't changed since I got off the plane. I still had my gun in the waistband of my too-big fatigues. It was heavy and cold against the small of my back._

 _In ten years, I've killed...over 200 people._

 _I grabbed the gun from my waistband, and checked the clip; still had three bullets left. I ran my fingers over the barrel of the gun; I could feel the seared brain matter over the end. My last few shots were at close range._

 _I put a bullet in the chamber and just stared at the gun._

 _One simple move. A move I've done hundred-_ _ **thousands**_ _-of times._

 _Yesterday I killed twenty-six people._

 _I only killed six with my gun._

 _Ten I got with my knife._

 _Ten were in the explosion._

 _Bucky would never want me to be around so much_ _ **death**_ _._

 _I took a shaky breath, and put the cold muzzle of the gun under my chin._

* * *

Omniscient POV

 **February 15, 1956**

 **6:00 am**

 _Knock Knock Knock_

 _Howard sighed, frowning. "C'mon Anna! Don't make me use the key you told me not to copy when you moved into this place!"_

 _Still no answer._

 _Knock Knock Knock_

 _"Annabelle Jane Brightman!" Howard yelled. "Open up the goddamned door!"_

 _A door behind him opened, and an elderly woman poked her head out into the hallway._

 _Howard straightened up and fixed his jacket. Putting on a smile, he nodded towards the woman. "Sorry...Uh, she-she's late for a meeting." Howard lied as he searched for the key in his pocket._

 _The woman glanced at the clock at the end of the hall._

 _"It's...in London." He mumbled, pushing the door open._

 _Sliding it shut, he sighed. "Anna, I will never understand why you chose to live in a place without a real door." He called through the apartment, trying to mask his worry. Peggy reminded him a few weeks ago that it was Valentine's Day. Someone needed to check in on Anna._

 _Howard frowned at the pile of dirty, grimy clothes in a pile by the door. He frowned even deeper at the gun on the floor haphazardly next to the pile. Howard kicked the dirty clothes towards the trash can, and took the gun to the kitchen. "I'm so glad I put this in," he said under his breath, pushing on the third brick from the right until it clicked. The wall swung open, revealing a large wall safe. He put in the combination and opened it just enough to put the pistol in._

 _Howard_ _ **did not want to know**_ _what Anna kept in her safe._

 _After closing the safe and the wall panel, Howard looked around the apartment for Anna._

 _She was in her bedroom._

 _Anna's hair was snarled and damp over her pillows, and she was wearing a t-shirt that was clearly several sizes too big. It wasn't Bucky's though. Howard could tell; it was new._

 _Anna was a mess, and so was her room._

 _Sighing, Howard tossed his jacket on a hook and loosened his tie. He rolled up his sleeves and started putting books on shelves. He pushed the furniture back into place and straitened the pictures._

 _He got to the table along the window. Howard stacked records up again, and glanced at the player; record was just spinning on it, the needle trailing over the black plastic while not making any sound. Howard put the needle back on the record, and once sound began, he sighed. He recognised instantly._

 _"Jeez," he sighed, yanking the record off the player. "Why_ _ **do that**_ _to yourself, sweetheart?"_

* * *

 **Present**

Steve came home late. He wasn't sure if it would be considered early morning or late at night.

He threw his gym bag on the floor, and saw the utility belt Anna had been wearing on the floor. Further in the apartment was the suit she'd been wearing. Steve was too worried to think of anything else. He poked his head in the bathroom, and saw dried, smeared blood on the shower floor; he chalked it up to what Anna washed off.

Steve let out a sigh when he saw Anna in her bedroom, then he saw the state of disarray her bedroom was in. He checked the windows of her room to make sure on one broke in, and glanced back at Anna.

Her eyes were puffy, her nose was red, her hands were curled around something tightly and holding it under her chin.

A record was spinning soundlessly on the turntable under.

As a reflex, Steve put the needle on the record and pushed her chair up the rightway.

A familiar tune began to play, and Steve gave the record player an odd look.

 _"I'm dreamin' tonight of a place I love  
_ _Even more than I usually do  
_ _And although it's a long road back  
_ _I promise you"_

Steve paused, sitting on the edge of the chair he just fixed.

He remembered, the last Christmas Bucky was alive, he got this record for her.

 _"I'll be home for Christmas  
_ _You can count on me  
_ _Please have snow, and mistletoe  
_ _And presents under the tree."_

Sighing at the memory of a proud Bucky sneaking into a sleeping Anna's room to put the record on the player, Steve cleaned up Anna's room.

He was about to close her door and take a shower when the last verse of the song played. Steve rested his head on the door jam and took a few deep breaths; one one blon needed to cry in this apartment tonight.

 _"Christmas Eve will find me  
_ _Where the love light beams  
_ _I'll be home for Christmas  
_ _If only in my dreams  
_ _If only in my dreams."_

The record skipped twice before a new voice poured through the speakers.

" _I promise Annie. I'll be home for Christmas..._ _I'm **always** comin' home."_

There was a brief pause.

" _I love you, Glow. "_

Now, Steve understood.

The last few days were some of the hardest days of Annie's life.

She wanted to hear his voice.

"Jeez Annie," Steve sighed, closing his door. "Why do that to yourself?"

* * *

Anna POV

I woke up around noon.

I lazily got out of bed and frowned as I touched my hair. It was _curly_ again.

"Hey," Steve said from my couch. "You missed Thor takin' Loki back to Asgard."

"Hm." I grunted as I got a mug from the cupboard and stuck it under my coffee maker. I punched the buttons with my thumb and leaned on the counter.

"Your hair's curly again," Steve spoke up again. "Nice to see the Annie I knew."

 _She's gone._

"Hm."

Steve got up and leaned on the breakfast bar. "Agent Fowler caught me last night before I left," he started.

"Let me guess," I sighed, taking my mug. "He told you, to ask me, if I wanted to get a drink sometime."

He chuckled once. "He's asked you before?"

"Every time I go to the Triskelion." I groaned, taking a drink of the strong black coffee. The frown Steve had on his face didn't go unnoticed by me.

"Cream and sugar aren't really accessible where I've spent my time." I switched topics. "I learned how to take it plain."

"I...I think you should go to get a drink with Fowler." Steve said after a moment.

I snorted. " _What_? You were my beau's best pal, shouldn't you be all," I paused and started talking in a deep voice, mimicking Steve. " _No one will ever be as good as him. You deserve better, Annie. You went with my best friend and now you're with_ that _dumbass?_ "

"I don't sound like that," Steve snapped at me, crossing his arms. "And _you know_ he wanted you to find someone and be happy...Hell, Anna _I_ want you to be happy."

Ellie said that all the time.

"I am happy." I mumbled as I sipped my coffee. "And...Me finding someone else...Never came up between us."

Steve's brow furrowed. "Didn't you find his note?"

"What note?" I asked as I yawned.

"He wrote you a note in case he...In case _this_ happened," Steve explained to me slowly. "Didn't you find it?"

"He didn't leave me a note." I said firmly, staring at my coffee. "I went through all of his things, Steve. _Twice_."

"He said he put it in some book," Steve added on.

I dropped my mug.

It fell onto the floor and broke, sending hot coffee everywhere. I didn't feel it hit my bare legs; I was already running to my storage room.

I pounded the code in four times before it was accepted, and made a beeline for the wardrobe at the back. I threw the door open and searched through the books I had neatly stacked on the bottom. They were all in airtight bags; I found the one I was looking for and ripped the clear plastic off.

When Bucky couldn't sleep, I would read to him. Lewis Carroll was our shared favorite. He was, after all, the author of the book Bucky tried so hard to understand so he could sound smart when we danced. Since he died, I couldn't bare to read any more of his work. Or, poetry of any kind really.

The book I grabbed was the Margaret Sackville book he got for me; the one he wrote in. I flipped through the pages quickly before I tossed it to the floor. I did this to every book in the wardrobe until there was only one left.

 _The Jabberwocky_

I opened it up to the back cover, and pressed my thumb to the pages. I let them fly past each other until it stopped. A weathered, yellowed envelope was stuck between the pages of the poem he memorized for me.

Slouching down against the wardrobe, I let the book fall into my lap as I looked at the letter. I didn't even try to stop myself from crying.

On the back of the letter were three words in familiar scrawl, written with a fountain pen with a thin tip; the one he took out of a HYDRA officer's office. It was 24 carat gold and had a mother of pearl inlay on the cap. I had it on my desk in my bedroom now.

I traced my fingers over the words and sicked in a breath.

 _To my Glow_

* * *

 **Another chapter my cupcakes!**

 **As you know, I'm gonna have a few happy-fun chapters before I get into the Winter Soldier. So far, Anna's gonna be appearing in the Supernatural, White Collar and Sherlock universes. Are there any other movies/TV shows you'd like to see? It can be totally ridiculous! That's fine!**

 **~ _Christianne_**

 **PS~ I made a thing for this chapter, it's on the site I made for this story...It's pretty cool, I think...Take a look ;)**


	11. Chapter 11: Valkyries & Angels (SPN)

**Sorry for the wait. I think this one was a little harder than I thought it'd be. I wrote two others I didn't like, and scraped them. I sat down this morning and wrote this all in one go. I didn't really proof read it or anything, so it might not be my best work. It's just kinda...thrown together.**

 **A few people asked when I'll be starting thw Winter Soldier plot, so, here's the answer.** **The Winter Soldier plot will start _soon_.**

 **One thing about this chapter; religion gets brought up. Any comments about it in a negative way will be deleted. It's in there to serve a plot-line-purpose, _not_ to ensue debates. Not to be mean or anything; I've had problems with this in the past and I don't want it to happen here.**

 **Enjoy ;)**

 **~Christianne**

* * *

Anna POV

It'd been three days since we kicked ass. The first two days I was out of it, I was alright now.

I didn't change out of my PJs or straighten my hair. I used my blue bandanna to twist it up like I was in my lab in '44. I forgot how the curls _annoyed_ me. After plunking my butt down in front of my TV with a mug of coffee in my hands, I watched the news.

It showed two girls, sisters, getting their hair dyed blonde and posing with bandannas over their faces.

A mom of three got my 8-pointed star tattooed on the back of her shoulder.

Some children were playing in the park; the two boys were Captain America and the Hulk, and the girls were the Valkyrie and Black Widow.

A blonde woman in black with a blue bandana over her face, grabbed a guy in a Captain America t-shirt, yanked her bandanna down and kissed him full on the mouth. Coffee came out my nose when I laughed. Steve saw that one and just rolled his eyes; both at me at the two people.

I called Kára when a nutty historian went on and on about the history of Valkyries (he was really off) but she wasn't answering. I used my S.H.I.E.L.D. mainframe access to track her phone; she was in a tiny town in New Hampshire. I was going to call her, but she called me first.

"Hey, I was just about to call-"

" _Hey, yeah, hi, I need you're help._ " Kára cut me off.

I sat up and frowned. "What's up?"

" _Well, you remember Yolanda Ignatius?_ "

"With a name like that, _nobody_ forgets Yolanda Ignatius." I half-laughed.

" _Yeah, well, I came up to see her and see if she could help me get a hang of my wings again-_ "

"Kar, she was in her 60s when you met her in '73! There's no way she's still alive!"

" _I forgot you guys have the lifespan of flies! Ok?_ " Kára said defensively. " _I figured I was there, so why not do some good, right? I kept a kid and a cat from getting hit by cars and put out a fire-not there are feds here looking for me!_ "

I shot up from my couch. "Federal agents," I asked, clarifying.

" _Yeah! I can't leave now 'cause they told the cops to be on the look out for me!_ " Kara said, her voice growing more and more anxious.

"Hang tight, I'll be there in a few hours," I told her as I brushed scone crumbs off my chest. "You have a place to lay low?"

" _Yeah...Did you know Yolanda left me her place in her will?_ "

I rolled my eyes as I tried to jump into a pair of jeans and keep my phone between my cheek and my shoulder. "Yeah, I did. Howard and I couldn't get in contact with you since you were in the _Norwegian wilderness_."

* * *

Four hours later, I sighed and let my speedometer needle drift from 109 to 57 miles per hour. I was in Berlin now (New Hampshire, not Germany) and I didn't need to be tagged with a speeding ticket.

Then again, it was just a shame to be driving a 550 Spyder and go under 80. I split the difference and pushed the needle back up to 70. I blew through town, straight to the police station.

I can pinpoint _exactly_ when I realized how beautiful I was; how beautiful _Bucky_ thought I was.

It was 1948 and I was sitting on the bus on my way home to my apartment in Brooklyn. Two girls my age got on a few stops after I did, arms linked, and sat behind me. They were gossiping about their friends under their breath; I minded my own business and read my book.

* * *

" _Excuse me?" One girl asked, tapping my shoulder. I put my bookmark in my book and turned. "Sorry to bother you, but I just_ _ **have**_ _to know where you got your blouse." She gushed, while the other girl looked at me curiously._

" _It's..." I trailed off briefly. "It's handmade in Italy." Her green-eyes widened and she gave a low whistle._

" _I'm sorry, are-are you that Brightman girl?" The her friend with red hair asked, I sighed again and she gasped a little. "It_ _ **is**_ _you! You were in the newspaper!"_

" _Bucky's girl, you mean?" The green-eyed girl asked._

 _My breath hitched and I choked down the acidic feeling that crawled up my throat every time I heard his name. I took a deep breath before answering. "You two knew him, right?" I guessed; he was always_ _ **James B. Barnes**_ _in newspapers._

" _Lauren here went with him for a few months," the green-eyed girl said, nudging her shoulder. My eyebrows lifted up slightly; I knew about Lauren. Bucky mentioned her once and refused to again, so I asked Steve about her._ _ **Lauren Davidson broke Bucky's heart.**_

 _The aforementioned Lauren just sighed and reached up to fix her hair. "Yeah. He was sweet."_

 _I almost rolled my eyes. I knew plenty of girls like Lauren; rich and entitled, sweet as can be until they stop getting what they want. I knew of the Davidson family; I didn't tell Bucky or Steve, but they had been living beyond their means since '22. They couldn't even be called 'rich' anymore. I, on the other hand, could be._

" _How is Bucky?" The green-eyed girl asked. "I'm Lily, by the way. I went to school with Bucky." She held out a lace-gloved hand for me to shake. I took it politely and turned a little more._

" _Anna," I introduced myself. "Anna Brightman."_

 _Lilly's eyes brightened and she giggled. "Oh he talked about you! We, Lauren and I, saw him before he shipped out. I wanted to go dancing or sumthin', but he said he already had a gal. How is he, by the way?"_

 _Lauren had been contently staring out the window as Lily and I spoke._

 _I took a deep breath. "He...Bucky died." I managed to say. "It-It was a few years ago...Overseas." Green-eyed Lilly put a sympathetic hand on my shoulder and gave her condolences. When the bus stopped, Lauren got up wordlessly, leaving Lilly and me to ourselves._

 _I frowned, and Lily huffed. "Sorry about her. She's never_ _ **really**_ _gotten over Barnes. Even if she had, and she told him he'd never do better and you're_ _ **much**_ _prettier than her. I never went with him and_ _ **I'm**_ _honestly a little jealous of you."_

 _She had no idea that my heart was swelling with every word. Bucky always told me he'd never seen a more beautiful woman than me. He told me Lauren Davidson was one of the prettiest girls in his class, and she was jealous of_ _ **me**_ _._

" _Oh, this is my stop. Give me a call sometime while you're in town Anna. Lily Jacobsen at 2-L-D-5." She chirped before getting off the bus._

* * *

Instead of going home, I went shopping to all the stores I thought I was to _average_ for in the past. I had a new attitude, my beau's dog tags around my neck and could knew Howard Stark's bank account numbers forwards and back. I didn't think he'd mind; he had been jonesing for me to get some new clothes since I was still wearing the ones from the trunk he'd given me while at Camp Leigh.

If Howard could see me now...

Leather jacket over a t-shirt, skinny jeans and heeled-boots, aviators with wind blown hair as I stepped out of a cherry red convertible he would laugh and kiss my cheek. 'Doll-face, I don't know what happened to you, but I'm happy you're lookin' up now.'

I was smiling to myself as I waltzed into the police department. I walked right past the desk sergeant, flashing my S.H.I.E.L.D. badge at him before walking straight for the chief's office.

"Hello Chief Morency," I said cheerfully, letting myself into his office and closing the door behind me. The man looked at me in confusion as I took a seat in front of his desk.

"Who are you?" He asked cautiously; he must have seen the bulge at the small of my back.

I sighed, pushing my sunglasses off my face and up onto my head. "Call me Anna."

He shifted in his chair. "What can I do for you...Anna?"

"I'm here about the feds on your turf that are making my best friend jittery enough to break down."

* * *

" _Hello?_ " A voice answered the phone.

"Hello," I said in a much more cheerful voice. "Is this the _best_ FBI agent in the whole bureau?"

They paused. " _What do you want, Brightman?_ " He sighed, exasperated.

"Just look up a few names for me, alright?" I sighed, and glanced at the business cards on the dash. "Agents John Atwater and Tommy Oscar."

There was some typing, then a sigh. " _Nope_."

"Thanks." I said simply, hanging up.

I frowned and screeched to a stop in front of Yolanda's former place of residence; a massive, slightly-run down estate on the outskirts of town. I wanted to put my car in the half-there garage, but Yolanda's car was still in there.

"Kara?" I called as I walked into the foyer. I dropped my bag by the door and wandered around the house. "Checked in with the chief of police and got the names of the so-called agents here...Pack your crap, let's get back to the city."

Silence.

I frowned, and put my hand on my hip, where my knife was.

There was a soft, almost inaudible sound behind me, and I spun around, and came face to face with a dark-haired man in a tan trench coat. As I spun, I grabbed my knife. When I saw it was an unknown face, I plunged it swiftly into the man's throat.

When he didn't drop right away, I didn't hesitate to kick him in the stomach. His brow furrowed, and he made no sound of pain. Instead, he just stumbled back a step and frowned. His eyes were cold and harsh as he pulled the knife from his throat and let it drop to the ground.

"If that's supposed to scare me, you're gonna have to do better than that." I said lowly. "I've been through a _lot_ of weirder stuff that that lately."

The man stood at his full height; a little under, if not exactly, six feet. "Leave." He said in a low, rough voice.

My eyebrows raised. "Leave?" I repeated; he gave me a solum, curt nod. "See, my best friend is in here somewhere. Now, I'm gonna either take her with me, or take you down."

"If we were to fight, you would lose." He said simply; apparently the knife in his throat did nothing to impair his voice, which was weird. I plunged the knife through two arteries and his voice box.

"You know, people keep tellin' me that...But, here I am!" I said cheerfully, smiling sweetly as I gestured around us.

"It is best if you leave, Annabelle Brightman." The dark haired man said.

Aside from raising an eyebrow, I didn't react to him saying my full name. I cocked a hip and sighed. "Look, I don't want trouble, alright? Just... _Scram_ and we'll be on our way."

"Who the hell says _scram_?" A deep voice said behind me. I'd heard him walk down the stairs behind me, and was ready for a two-on-one fight.

"The girl who's gonna _kick your ass._ " I said, looking over my shoulder slightly.

He chuckled once. "Sorry sweetheart, I don't go down easy."

"Neither do I." I countered.

The dark haired man narrowed his eyes. "She is the one the abomination spoke of, Dean"

The guy behind me grabbed my shoulder and moved to spin me around. I spun faster and grabbed the top of his gun. While grabbing his forearm and twisting outwards, I pulled the top of his Colt forward, making a casing pop out. I put the end of the gun between my thumb and forefinger to jerk it up just as he fired a shot, and twisted my leg around his to get him on his knees. With the new angle, his gun arm was wrenched up and his other was throbbing with pain. With precise skill and precision, I hit the side of his wrist with the side of my hand and took his gun. I put a new round in the chamber and flipped it around my finger so it was pointing at his head.

"I've been called a lot of things," I said, looking down at the bottle-green eyes of the man whose gun I now held, even though I was talking to the other man. "But _abomination_ is new."

"Dean!" A masculine voice called from upstairs; probably responding to the shot. Green-Eyes flicked his gaze to the steps.

I cocked my head to the side. "Nice to meet you Dean," I said casually. "I'm Anna."

"Anna...Think you can do that whole sweet-talking thing you did in Palestine?" I heard Kára say cautiously. Risking it, I looked away from the broad shouldered blond I had before me to the stairs. Kára was walking down them slowly, a man with a gun behind her, aim trained on her head.

I rolled my eyes. "You've fought _bilgesnipe_ , Kar." I sighed, looking back at the blond. "Can't take a few federal-imposters?"

" _You know_ I have a hard time fighting the worthy," Kára huffed, giving the long-haired brunet behind her a sidelong glare.

"Can't make an exception?" I asked, just as Dean at me.

Rolling my eyes, I kneed him in the stomach, grabbed his collar and pressed my shoulder to his sternum, knocking the wind out of him, and hurling him to the floor. I put a foot on his chest, between his collarbones, and trained his gun on his head again.

"I'm trying to have a conversation, think you can stop the interruptions?" I asked down at him.

"Let him go," the long-haired guy said, his jaw clenched.

"Let _her_ go," I countered, almost smiling. He thought he was _intimidating_ me.

"Sam, shoot her." Dean, the guy on the ground, growled.

"The second you move your gun, I'm gonna drop you like Fafnir on Sigurdsblot." Kára threatened lowly.

"Sammy _shoot her._ " Dean said again.

"Sam, do not shoot this woman." The dark haired man said in a commanding voice.

"Careful feathers, you're _compassion_ is showing." Kára said venomously.

"Let my brother go or I'll shoot her," 'Sammy' said, bringing the gun closer to Kára's head.

"Won't kill her," I shrugged. "Just a big mess to clean up."

"Anna, I'm still pretty new and weak-"

"And they didn't know that until you said it, Kára!" I cut her off.

" _Shoot her Sam!_ "

" _Do not_ shoot this woman, Sam."

"Stop acting like you care, Feather face! You kill her, you have guaranteed seats next to Hel."

"Already been to Hell, Blondie- _Sam shoot this bitch!_ "

"Do not shoot her, Sam."

"Not like a bullet's gonna slow me down much."

"What about three to the head?"

"You have a concussion, dumbass! You could barely hit the side of a barn!"

"You have no voice here!"

"I'm sorry, when did I work for you?"

"Shoot her!"

"You shoot me, I shoot him!"

"You shoot him, I shoot her."

"If you shoot me, you're gonna wish she shot you when I'm done with you!"

"Sam, put your gun down."

"Whoes side are you on Cas?"

"No ones, Dean. I just know these women do not give empty threats."

"Prove it, let my brother go."

"Let my best friend go!"

Soon, everyone was yelling at everyone. I still had a foot on Dean's chest. Sam was holding his gun to Kára's temple. The dark haired man, Cas I guess, was yelling at Sam not to shoot me, and ordering Kara to stay silent.

The gun shot made me twitch, then fall to the floor. I rolled twice so my back was to the wall and the gun out in front of me, waiting.

Kára had elbowed Sam in the side, and smacked his head on the left side. The large man winced, allowing Kára to grab his neck and slam him into the railing of the stairs. She tried to take his gun, but Sam wasn't giving it up easy. The wrestled for the gun on the steps.

" _ENOUGH!_ "

Windows shattered, the chandelier shook and dust fell like snow.

It was 'Cas' who bellowed out the one word. He was glaring at all of us, his piercing blue eyes seemed brighter than before.

"Hey!" I yelped when gun was yanked from my hand and slid across the floor to 'Cas,' just like Sam's gun, which Kára had just gotten from him.

I was breathing a little heavily, and looked down at my side. "Great, _just_ what I need," I groaned, pressing a hand to the hole in my side leaking blood on my white t-shirt.

"You ok Annie?" Kára asked. After the gun flew from her grasp, she was flung back a few feet from Sam to the floor.

"You alright Sammy?" Dean asked, propping himself up on his elbows.

"Well, I'd be fine if I wasn't still covered in bruises from the Chitauri," I said, taking low, controlled breaths to keep the pain at bay.

"I'm good...You?" Sam responded to his brother.

"Been better." Dean reasoned.

There were a few moments of silence before I sat up from the floor, feeling my back for an exit wound. I didn't feel one, and moved to press both my hands to the hole in my hip. I winced when my fingers, slick with blood, slid through a hole in the buttery leather of my jacket.

"The five of us need to talk, don't we?" I said, glancing between the men and Kára.

Dean, still on the floor, nodded slowly. "Hate to agree with the bitch that took my Colt...But yeah...Think we do."

" _Talk?_ " Kára half-yelled at me. "You can't talk with this _thing_!" She gestured wildly to the dark haired man, taking a few steps towards him.

"Think you can wait to blow your top until _after_ you sew me up?" I snapped back in the same tone. I had one hand pressed to my side. "Though this is hardly my worse wound yet, it _kinda_ hurts!"

"Let me heal her." Cas said lowly.

"You go near her, I will choke you with your halo _._ " Kára said flatly.

"If I am being kept from healing one of the most important humans to walk the Earth, you will keep your distance as well...And you can hardly perceive my halo, let alone touch it." Cas said, almost smugly.

"When you say crap like that, it _really_ makes me want to summon my spear and throw it through your _stupid head_!" Kára snapped back.

"It would not kill me. I am a celestial being."

"Hey Kar? I'm kinda _bleeding_ over here! Think you can stitch me up?" I asked, giving my best friend an annoyed look, but she was too busy glaring at 'Cas'.

"Oh, a _celestial_ being? 50 bucks says you can't work a toaster!" She shot back, ignoring me.

"We do not require nourishment." Cas responded simply.

Soon, they lapsed into another language. Or, language _s_. I recognized Kára's ancient Norse tongue, but Cas's was alien to me.

When a clap of thunder clapped hard enough to shake the house came when Kara yelled particularly loud.

"Kára what the _hell_ happened between you two?" I half-yelled, making her look at me. For my Valkyrie best friend to not be stitching me up and swearing to kill who ever shot me like she usually did, it must have been pretty bad.

She just scowled, crossed her arms and looked at the floor. "This have anything to do with when you were a Valkyrie?"

"You _knew_ she was a Valkyrie?" Dean asked me in an accusatory tone, finally getting up off the floor to stand next to his brother.

"Yeah, she's my best friend. I've known she used to be a Valkyrie for _years_ ," I half-snapped at him while trying to control my breathing. I could feel myself breaking out into a sweat, and my heart was beating faster, trying to compensate for the lost blood.

" _Used to be_?" Dean half-laughed. "Sorry to disappoint you, sweetheart, but she's still got her mojo."

"Sorry to disappoint **you** , _sweetie_ ," I bit back. "But I knew that too. I was _there_ when Thor gave her her power back."

"Thor _willingly_ gave this-this _abomination_ her wings?" Cas asked, sounding outraged.

"I'm sorry, _how_ do you play into all of this?" I asked, giving him my best glare.

"I am an angel of the Lord." He said simply.

I looked at him with raised brows. " _An angel of the Lord_." I repeated to him, getting a nod. I leaned back on my hands for a moment, narrowing my gaze.

"An angel, with, like, wings, a halo and the almighty power of God behind you." I stated flatly.

Cas nodded once. "Yes. My true name is Castiel. Dean likes to give nicknames; he gave me Cas."

I nodded once. "Castiel...Like the archangel from Kabbalah?"

Sam and Dean gave me another odd look. "You know about a 12th century offshoot of Judaism?" Sam asked doubtfully.

I shrugged, and wiped sweat off my cheek with my shoulder. "Over the years, I've had a lot of spare time on my hands."

"Archangel _my ass._ " Kára huffed. "He's a _foot soldier_. Basically _cannon fodder._ "

"Cannons would have no effect on angels in battle. We are impervious to most mortal weapons." Castiel said in a tone that would paint Kara as a small child.

"Hey, I'm not a mortal, _feather face_ ," Kára snapped. Castiel lapsed into his ancient language, and Kára bit back in Norse.

" _Hey!_ " I said sharply, something that was getting kinda hard from my labored breathing.

" _You're_ a Valkyrie, _you're_ an angel," I said, looking at each of them as I said their perspective race. "Don't you winged people stick together? You know, look out for mankind?"

"You jumped on the angel bandwagon pretty quick," Dean put in.

"I'm _Catholic_ ," I said dismissively. "I've known angels are up there since I was young enough to understand the idea."

I looked back up at Kára. "This have to do with your fall?"

"Fall?" Sam asked.

Ignoring Sam, Kára answered my question. "Remember when I told you about our banishment?" I nodded.

"The All Father-"

"Who?" Dean cut Kára off.

" _Odin_ , the king of Asgard," I told him, then glanced at Kara. "Keep going."

"The All Father held a massive council, the only one ever conducted, about the Valkyries involvement in Midgard-Earth, I mean. He sent out a message through all the realms and the heavens; inviting leaders from all corners of Mid-of _Earth_ , to have input on the Valkyries fate. Gods like Zeus, Poseidon, Shiva and Ganesh, Ra, Uni, Pangu-basically _anyone_ with warriors who we carried to Valhalla at one point in time or another. The council was supposed to be eleven days; a day for each Valkyrie, and by the seventh they were going to let us continue our work on Earth...I mean, it's what we're _born_ for."

 _Kara_ 's voice turned a little sad and wistful. "We took the worthy men who die in battle to the glowing land of Valhalla, where they can fight their enemies every day and win, and return to a massive feast in the golden halls. They were the only ones we served, you know. In Asgard we were waited on hand and foot, but in Valhalla we devoted our time to serving the men we brought there."

"And in doing so you made thousands of villages mesmerized." Castiel cut in bitterly.

Kára gave him another eye roll. "Well, _Cassie_ , we were a faction of eleven beautiful women on horseback with wings, wearing armor and carrying shields and spears. We _were_ mesmerizing."

Dean gave a slight head bob in agreement; he must have liked the idea of winged women in armor with spears.

"On the eighth day, the _Christians_ showed up." Kára growled.

"Watch it," I said lowly.

She just rolled her eyes and kept talking. "Their _God_ was invited, instead we get a bunch of winged _douchebags_ with seven heads and 48 wings. They bullied the rest of the council members into banishment and didn't even stick around for the results. And _he was there_!" Kára yelled, pointing at Castiel.

"The council was not bullied. The council was a formality; we would have had the final say in the end." Castiel said. "There is only one God."

Kára laughed cynically. "How can you be so close minded?" She half-yelled. "There are hundreds of gods! _Hundreds_ of them!"

"My Father _allows_ there existence. When he created the Earth-"

"Yeah yeah _yeah_ , he made the Earth in six days and on the seventh he made _you_ to piss me off!" Kára shoved him hard on 'you,' making him stumble back a few steps.

" _I_ believe that Odin, Villi and Vé made the Earth from the body of the giant Ymir who lived between the lands of fire and ice. They used his flesh and bones to made the mountains and land. They took his blood and let it pour freely to fill the lowlands to create the seas. They use his teeth to make boulders, his brains to make clouds, his eyebrows became the forests. The primordial fires of Muspelheim became the stars, sun and moon. Ymir's daughter, Night, birthed a son to an Æsir man and called him Day. They were given chariots and horses to allow them to travel around the Earth. The morning dew is the dripping sweat from Night's majestic steed and the gods had to attach blowers to Day's steed so he didn't burn the Earth to a crisp. A witch in Midgard birthed to wolf sons, Skoll and Hait. Skoll chases the sun and Hati chases the moon; together they keep the cycle of day and night. The three sons of Bor made the nine realms and the races with them in _a_ _day_ and grew the life tree Yggdrasil from the body of their dead mother. Yggdrasil grew and grew to the size of the universe and connects the nine realms with it's branches, its leaves and roots." Kára paused and took a breath.

I'd never seen her like this; so intense and passionate to the point it was raining, and the air buzzed with electricity.

" _Your_ creation story is not the _only_ creation story! _My_ creation story isn't the only creation story! So get off your high- _fucking_ -horse! You can't go around saying shit like you do anymore!"

"The Hindu one is about Lord Vishnu crawling out of the belly of a cobra, making a lotus flower and breaking it in three parts for the earth, sky and heavens. "

"In Japan, it starts with the earth being a shapeless mass, then the god Izanagi and the goddess Izanami were given the job of stirring this mass with a jeweled spear. As they stirred, the mixture thickened and dropped off the spear point and hardened into an island. On the island the god and goddess were married and had children. These offspring included the eight islands of Japan, many gods and goddesses, and finally the sun-goddess Amaterasu. From her descended the emperors of Japan."

"In Zulu culture, The Ancient One, Unkulunkulu, came from the reeds and brought forth the people and the cattle. He created everything that is; mountains, streams, snakes, stuff like that. He taught the Zulu how to hunt, how to make fire, and how to grow food. He is considered to be the First Man and is in everything that he created."

"The Iroquois believe the Earth is the on the back of a _turtle_ for safe keeping!"

Castiel remained completely stoic through Kára's intense rambling. Sam and Dean seemed both mildly impressed, and slightly worried; I could see Dean reaching behind him for a gun that wasn't there.

" _This isn't about creation myths!_ " Castiel boomed, his voice shook dust from the ceiling and shattered the overhead light bulbs and the ones in the lamps.

Kára didn't seem rattled at all.

"The decision to banish Valkyries to Asgard was in the best interest of mankind." Castiel took a breath and kept talking. "While there may be differences in our beliefs, it is a fact that Valkyries were far too involved with humans."

"We were involved with them because it was our _duty_!" Kára yelled. "Valkyries and angels might be preaching the same things, but _we're_ the ones who came down from Asgard and fought alongside them for centuries! You _feathered dickbags_ just sat up in the clouds and _watched_ as we suffered! Being stuck in Asgard-it was like Valkyries were being treated as zoo animals!"

"If you would like to compare your race to animals, may I suggest rabid dogs or starved lions?" Castiel said in a low, harsh voice.

"Kára...!" I trailed off, and took a deep breath. "Son of a bitch-Would you two get your _heads_ out of your _feathered asses_?"

* * *

Omniscient POV

"Son of a bitch-Would you to get your _heads_ out of your _feathered asses_?" Anna yelled before going silent.

Sam's brow furrowed, and he glanced at Dean. The blonde's head lolled back to rest on the wall, and her chest moved more heavily with each breath. Cas and Kára were still yelling at each other, neither noticed Anna's worsening condition. A few moments later, her grip on her side fell slack.

Dean huffed and grabbed his gun from the floor in front of Cas. He put a round in the chamber, and raised it towards the ceiling. He fired three times, which got the two yelling winged people to look at him.

"Think someone should help her?" Dean half-yelled, using his gun to gesture to Anna. Sam reached down to take her pulse, which was surprisingly strong for someone who passed out from exsanguination.

The two looked at each other, and Kára frowned. "I'll grab her bag from her car." She called over her shoulder. Castiel followed her, and she groaned. "I'm...I'm so old I don't remember how old I am! I don't need a babysitter to get a bag from a trunk!"

"Sam, Dean, take Annabelle Brightman upstairs," was the angel's response as he followed her.

The Winchester brothers watched the bickering pair walk out the door. "Grab her knife," Dean told his brother, who noded and did so. He reached down and scooped the girl up. She was pretty small, maybe 5'6", but she was a little heftier than Dean thought. He remembered how easily she got him down on the floor, and figured she was heavy with muscle.

Sam was examining her knife. It was old and battered, with nicks and gouges over the 7 inch, double edged blade. It was razor sharp thought, just by skimming the pads of his fingers briefly over the edge of the blade, Sam frowned when a paper-thin cut on the rough outer skin appeared. He hadn't even _felt it_. The grip was wrapped tightly in leather that looked much newer than the knife itself, and held in place by two small nails on the butt of the knife and the other just under the hilt. Adding to its oddity, it was _perfectly_ balanced. He balanced it, roughly in the middle, over two fingers, and it wobbled briefly before straightening out.

Dean carried 'Annabelle Brightman' up the rickety stairs and past the first few rooms. They were pretty much destroyed in the first confrontation with the Valkyrie; she only calmed down (if you could call it that) after Cas flew in. She stopped hitting them at least.

His younger brother followed, examining the knife as he walked. Sam vaguely recalled some history classes in high school and his brief college experience where trench warfare was discussed. The knife he held in his hand reminded him of the trench knifes early World War II soldiers had. The name Annabelle Brightman was nagging him too; he _knew_ that name.

After dropping the young woman on a musty, dusty bed, Dean tugged her jacket until it came off. He dropped the dark brown leather jacket (lined with blue silk) on the floor and grabbed the edge of her shirt to look at the wound.

"Get out of there if you want to keep your face."

Dean chuckled once and glanced up at her face. "Big talk coming from someone with a .45 in 'er."

Anna rolled her eyes and pressed a hand to her side. "This is nothing." She scoffed, falling back to lean on the stack of pillows. "But I've been through the ringer this week. Not in the best shape."

Sam nodded slightly; with her jacket off, he could see the blue, purple and green bruises that peppered her arms. "Looks like it."

"You should see the other guys," Anna said with a smirk, grabbing the bottom of her shirt. She yanked it over her head and used it to wipe sweat off her face, leaving her in only her bra on top.

Dean wordlessly lifted his eyes to the ceiling, crossing his arms over his chest. Sam cleared his throat slightly and focused his eyes to the ground. Anna laughed once.

"You can look if you want to, guys," she said, pressing her t-shirt to her side. "I've been in much less in front of many more men...Some of which were _way_ better looking than either of you."

 _That_ got them both looking in her direction.

"Why would I _leave_?" Kára asked incredulously, walking into the large bedroom. She dropped the two black duffle bags she held at the foot of the bed Anna was sitting on, and put a hand on her cocked hip, pairing the action with a glare at the angel. "My best friend needs help."

"Valkyries only care for their own kind." Castiel answered coldly.

Anna rolled her eyes and grabbed on of the duffle bags, sliding it over the quilt towards her. Kára and Castiel continued to argue, lapsing into languages Anna didn't understand.

Anna pulled a large, bright red medical kit from the duffle and yanked it open. As she dug through it, she glanced at Sam. "You know, I sort of hate you now." She said, looking at Sam as he leaned on the wall across from me.

"Cause I tried to kill you?" He asked flatly.

Anna snorted, pulling some long medical tweezers from the kit. "Oh _please_ ," she scoffed. "If I hated _everyone_ who tried to kill me I'd have no friends."

"So why do you hate me?"

"I _kinda_ hate you 'cause you ruined my jacket." Her gaze returned to the dark, ebony leather jacket lined with flawless blue silk.

"That the Saks Fifth one?" Kára asked, walking away from Cas to stand on the other side of the room.

"No... _that_ is the jacket Guccio custom made for me before I went to Korea." Anna answered sadly.

" _Guccio_?" Dean asked, raising his eyebrows.

Anna nodded. "Yeah, Guccio Gucci." She got a blank look. "The founder of _Gucci_."

"It's an expensive clothing label." Sam finally said under his breath. Dean gave him an odd look, to which Sam shrugged defensively before putting on a sarcastic voice. "See, I _listen_ when girls talk."

Before the brotherly bickering got _irritating_ instead of cute, Anna spoke up again. "I guess I can't expect a guy in _flannel_ to know about the current fashion."

Dean rolled his eyes at her, but they got wide quickly.

Anna bit down on a unbloody part of her t-shirt, laid back on the pillows and stuck the medical tweezers right in her gunshot wound. The slick sound of open, moving flesh made both brothers wrinkle their noses. Anna, other than biting down hard on her shirt, didn't seem to react to the foreign, metal object digging around in the flesh over her left hip.

She finally pulled out a smushed, bloody bullet. Spitting out the shirt, she smiled. "There you are you little bastard," she mumbled, tossing it on the bed and reaching blindly into the kit for gauze.

"Kar, can you grab me the morphine?" Anna asked as she sat up, pressing the gauze to her sound.

"Nope...I'll grab you the novocaine." She offered, cocking a hip.

Anna groaned. "Seriously? _Now_? I was _shot_ -and my problem wasn't with painkillers!"

Kára rolled her eyes and handed her a syringe. Grumbling, Anna grabbed it. She bit the cap to pull it off, and spat it to the floor. She jammed it into the fleshy spot just over her wound, and pushed the plunger down. She threw the syringe to the floor as well.

Sam took notice of the dog tags dangling between Anna's breasts. "Where'd you serve?"

Anna scoffed as she found a suture kit. "No where you need to know, Sam."

"Annabelle was never in the military." Castiel said suddenly, making everyone look at him. "She is a mission specialist, and a special agent for the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division after it's creation."

Kára rolled her eyes, and Anna's brows rose up. "Huh...I guess I never really thought about it..." She trailed off briefly, her face pinching as she tied off the first stitch. "God and His angels really do know _everything_."

"Yeah, but _they_ don't need to know about it," Kára said venomously, looking at the Winchester brothers. Dean rolled his eyes, Sam barely heard her; he was racking his brain to remember where he knew Anna from.

"The _what_?" Dean finally asked.

"Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division." Anna repeated, throwing the bloody suture needle to the floor. "More commonly known as _S.H.I.E.L.D_."

Sam's brows raised. "Oh." He said suddenly. Anna looked over at him expectantly as she taped a square of gauze over her wound. "You're...You're _Anna Brightman_."

The young woman in question smiled wryly. "High school classes tend to glaze over Project Rebirth. You took a college class, right?"

Sam nodded, recalling all the information he learned in his American History 1930-1945 course.

"Care to share with the class, Sammy?" Dean asked, crossing his arms.

"Uh..." He said, dumbfounded. "Aren't-Aren't you supposed to be _dead_?"

Anna tugged a shirt over her head and nodded. "Yeah, Annabelle Brightman _officially_ died in 1952."

"Sweetheart, I _still_ have no idea who you are." Dean chuckled.

Anna sighed and glanced at Kára. She just shook her head and shrugged.

"Pull up a chair, boys. It's a long story." Anna groaned when she sat back down. Dean pulled a chair out from the desk in the room, and straddled the back. Sam stayed leaning on the wall.

"Go ahead," Sam said, nodding towards her, signaling for her to start the story. He knew the bare bones, but the details slipped his mind over the years.

"Either of you boys heard of Captain America?"

* * *

A few hours later, all the humans, angels and Valkyries left the run down, dusty and cracked residence that belonged to the late Yolanda Ignatius. Once Castiel was outside, he disappeared before Anna's eyes. She sighed, and did a quick sign of the cross before continuing to walk.

It took a long time to explain how Anna was still alive after half a century. To Anna, it was a well practiced speech; she sidestepped everything about her dog tags or Bucky during the whole thing.

They came to an agreement; Castiel wouldn't kill Kára is she promised not to bring anymore warriors to Valhalla. She didn't like it, but she just got her wings back; she didn't want some angelic freak taking they away again.

Dean stopped dead. "Oh...Oh my God." He finally got out.

"What?" Anna asked, opening the trunk of her Porsche to throw her two bags in. After she closed it, she sighed. "It's the car, right?"

"A Spyder 550..." Dean breathed, walking closer. He reached out and just barely touch the bright red paint. "You know, James Dean had a car just like this."

"We know," Kára sighed, leaning on the passenger's door. " _Every time_ we saw him, he always _bragged_ about it."

"Every time you saw-You knew _James Dean_?" Sam asked, his voice raising half a pitch in surprise.

"He asked me to marry him three times," Anna sighed, wiping her aviators off on her shirt. It was a bit dark to wear them now, but she didn't want them scratched up.

"I thought it was four?" Kára asked, frowning in thought.

"Well," Anna considered. "I think of it as three. He asked twice in one day."

Dean was looking at the two women absolutely stunned. "You... _What_?" He finally got out.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. investigated him. He was the first technopath recorded, and the first on the Gifted Index." Anna said, nodding while she spoke.

"Technopath?" Sam asked, frowning at the term.

"People who can manipulate technology." Kára clarified.

"But James Dean was around in the early '50s. What did he have to manipulate? _Blenders_?" Dean asked.

"Uh, first, you're probably thinking of malt mixers. They're _totally_ different from blenders." Anna started out. "Second, _yeah_ , he manipulated malt mixers. And radios. And refrigerators, cars, tanks, trucks, cameras, lights, TV sets, microphones, electric razors, phones, radars, primitive computers, weapons systems, projectors and vacuums."

Dean was stunned. "What the-How do you _know_ all this?"

"He only agreed to be investigated and tested if _Anna_ was there." Kára teased, batting her eyelashes.

Anna shoved her shoulder and pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. "Our first interview with him was on the set of his first movie. He said he didn't have time to talk to a bunch of stiffs in suits. So, I said I'd race him for it."

"You raced against _James Dean_?" Sam asked, his brows raised up.

"Uh, I _won_ a race against James Dean." Anna corrected, grinning. "I got out of my car and leaned on the bumper. Jimmy slid to a stop next to me, sat on the door of his car, looked over to top, and in a dead serious voice; _Marry me_. After that, he was just _mesmerized_ by the smart girl who beat him in a race."

Kára chuckled slightly like Sam, while Dean leaned on the car. He was holding his stomach as he almost doubled over.

"We were around him for a few years. S.H.I.E.L.D. wanted to know what Jimmy could do, so we took him to a few military bases with the newest tech," Kára explained. "After that, it was decided that it might be best for him to stay away from bases unless necessary."

"Why?" Dean asked curiously.

"He wasn't used to being around technology newer than the radio in his car." Kára shrugged.

Anna laughed at the understatement. "He started six tanks, two weapons systems and made all the radios blasted Elvis with a _sneeze_."

"What about his death?" Dean asked, a grin on his face so big Sam thought his face was going to break.

"Well, we flew him to a nuclear plant in Turkey for a few days, and he was kinda messed up after that. Too volatile to be around people." Anna shrugged. "We faked his death and plunked him in a villa in Spain on the ocean with a fake name."

"So he's still alive?"

Kára snorted as she got in the car. "Still alive and still causing trouble. he needs at least seven agents around so he doesn't do anything _stupid_."

"Well, nice to meet you, Sam and Dean Winchester," Anna said, putting her sunglasses over her head as she got behind the wheel.

"Wait! Wait, one more question," Dean, bargained, leaning on Anna's door. "What about his car?"

"Jimmy had a lot of cars. You need to be more specific." Anna told him.

"Little Bastard," Dean clarified. "It was a 550 like this one."

Kára snorted. "There are more similarities than you think."

Anna smacked her shoulder and looked back at Dean. "When he was shipped off to Spain, he couldn't keep it. Too ostentatious. He wanted to give it to someone who deserved it."

Anna paused and straightened her shoulders. "I was the only girl who ever beat him in a race." She said proudly.

"You have James Dean's _Little Bastard_?" Sam asked, remembering a hunt a few years ago when a guy was killed because he thought he got the iconic lost car.

"Yeah," Anna said, again, proudly. "Had it in Germany for a while. Let me tell you, when you get that thing cruising on the Autobahn..." She trailed off and both her and Dean sighed.

"I missed it, so I gave it a paint job," she paused and turned the key in the ignition, making the car roar to life. She looked at Dean and winked before speeding off.

"Holy crap." Was all Dean said when he figured it out.

 _He had been touching James Dean's car._

* * *

Not long after Anna and Kára rove off, the brothers went to the Impala parked in the garage.

"Did you make plans to meet Annabelle again?" Cas said suddenly; he'd appeared in front of the black car with no warning. No matter how much Anna insisted the angel call her _Anna_ , Castiel wouldn't.

Shaking his head, Sam answered. "No, why?"

Cas didn't answer right away. He looked out of the garage, at the road the two blondes had driven down moments ago.

"I've heard her prayers." Cas finally spoke. "Every angel in Heaven has heard her prayers. Even the archangels."

"Well, if someones religious and ninety-odd years old, I bet every angel _has_ heard her prayers." Dean shrugged it off.

"That's not why we've all heard them." Castiel shook his head.

"Why, then?" Sam asked, frowning slightly. The idea of leaving a deadly woman who didn't age didn't settle with either brother, but Cas insisted they leave her be, and Anna insisted Kara be left alone too.

"Her prayers are painful." The angel elaborated. "It is rare a human lives as long as her, and even rarer that one experienced as much pain as her."

"War is Hell." Dean muttered.

"Yes, it is." Castiel said, looking at Dean. "And Annabelle Brightman has had 70 years of war."

He looked back out at the road. With his celestial abilities, he could hear Annabelle and the Valkyrie laugh.

"I, as well as most of Heaven, fear that if she does not find something good and pure in this world, she will think she is unworthy of Heaven." Pausing briefly, Castiel remembered the first time he heard her prayers.

Seven year old Annabelle kneeling next to her bed one night with a blue and purple bruise on her cheekbone, asking God to make her father less angry.

"She seemed alright to me." Sam shrugged, and wondered why he was surprised with Cas's answer.

"She isn't."


	12. Chapter 12: 221B Baker Street

**Ok, I feel very pressured. Ant-Man is coming out later this month and everyone is talking about Civil War— _I haven't even started the Winter Soldier yet!_ _Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh_!**

 **Ok. Well...Sorry about that.**

 **One more thing; I'm not sure how many little one-shots are going to be in here. It depends on how my current stuff goes. I'm working on seven differnent things for this story, the sequal to my Supernatural fic, and an original story.**

 **SUMMER ISN'T SUPPOSED TO BE STRESSFUL!**

 **...I need to calm down.**

 ***Crawls into bed with a bowl of popcorn and rewatches Daredevil for the umpteenth time***

 **Enjoy ;)**

 **~Christianne**

 **PS~ Most of the other oneshots will have to do with the same side-plot. Like, they'll build off one another, so you're probebly gonna see Sherlock and John again.**

 **PPS~Anna's Avenger name, in case you don't catch it, is the Blue Flare. All you guys gave me a bunch of good ideas, and I think I sort of mashed some together...Remember; _Blue Flare._**

* * *

Omniscient POV

It'd been a long night for John Watson.

After getting a case several days ago, they'd finally caught the smuggler at the docks. And his roommate was _finally_ getting some sleep. John was one leap-over-the-furniture away from putting the consulting detective in a sleeper hold until he passed out so he could have his tea in peace.

Lazily tying his dressing gown, John shuffled out of his bedroom towards the kitchen. He stopped dead in the hall; he could hear sounds he rarely heard from _this_ kitchen. The sound of pans on the stove, paired with a wonderful smell that wafted through the apartment. The former soldier went back to his bedroom, and put his loaded gun in the elastic band of his sleep pants. Tying his dressing gown again, he walked through the cluttered living space towards the kitchen.

John gave a heavy sigh when he saw a black umbrella by the door. "Damn," he sighed. He did _not_ want to deal with Mycroft after the night he had. But at least he didn't need his gun. Probably.

His hand was still sore from where the orangutan slammed it into a cage door. John had no idea why the primate _hated_ him so much, and, frankly, he was too tired to care.

John entered the kitchen, and frowned.

There was a woman in the kitchen. A _pretty_ woman.

Her thick, straight blonde hair was leaning over some brown paper sacks she was searching through, and her boot-clad feet were tapping on the tile. She eventually looked up, a block of cheese in her hand.

"Hey!" She said in a cheerful American voice.

"John, right?" She asked, setting the cheese down and walking over to him. She was wearing what appeared to be a very soft, black cable knit sweater and dark jeans. And still, she looked better than the last six women John dated put together.

He nodded slowly to answer her question.

She held her hand out. "Nice to meet you."

"Yeah." John managed to get out, shaking her hand. "And, eh," he cleared his throat. "And, uh, you are?"

"Anna." Was the simple answer he got.

"So, John," Anna asked, taking the block of cheese again, walking towards the stove. "How do you like your eggs?"

"Sorry, but, what-what are you doing in my flat?" John asked, taking a step into the kitchen.

"Right now, I'm making you breakfast," Anna said. "Scrambled eggs alright?"

"Yeah..." John said, narrowing his eyes at the woman.

"Before you get all in a soldier's tizzy, I know Holmes," she said over her shoulder.

"You're a _friend_ of _Sherlock's_?" John asked. _Clearly_ this woman was lying.

"Well, I wouldn't say a _friend_ ," Anna admitted, scraping the eggs onto a plate along with some toast. John looked at Anna in disbelief; life is so unfair. Anna seemed like a wonderful woman; good cook, very pretty, and she didn't seem the slightest bit stupid. And it appeared _Sherlock_ got to her first.

She put the plate in front of John and handed him a fork. "I punched him in the nose once," Anna recalled, smiling fondly at the memory.

John's eyebrows rose as he took the fork. " _Ah_." _That_ cleared things up a bit.

"Eat up," Anna said, going back to the kitchen. "We got a _long_ day ahead of us."

John nodded, chewing his eggs (which could possibly be the best thing he'd ever eaten), and watched the woman cook. Her jeans were slim fitting and tight, and her sweater's hem was at the belt loops. As she continued to cook, John, somewhat abashedly, watched her rear end. Now and then he got a glimpse of skin when her sweater rode up.

"How are the eggs?" Anna asked, bringing a mug of tea over to the army doctor.

John abruptly looked at the eggs on his plate. "Oh, uh, good. Very good. Very nice eggs."

Anna gave a soft, amused laugh. "I _like you_ , John Watson."

The hand bringing the mug to his lips stopped abruptly; _he didn't tell her his full name._ He took another bite of his wonderful scrambled eggs, and slowly reached for the gun he had behind his back.

"What are you doing?"

Sherlock's deep voice made Anna and John turn around. She looked him up and down briefly; disheveled black curls, and wrapped up in his bedsheets.

She rolled her eyes. "Go put _pants on_ , Holmes. We got work to do and I'm kinda counting on a little of your sharp-dressed-English-charm with this one," Anna sighed.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock asked again; he was trying to place this woman.

She was quite short; her four centimeter boot-heels weren't fooling him. Her body was slim and lean, giving the appearance that she was weak and defenseless. Her rough knuckles told a different story. A natural blonde; she straightened her hair. Sherlock could see the dry, seared portions of her hair at the ends and along her natural part. Her clothes appeared to be average for both a native Londoner, or a seasoned tourist, and gave her full range of motion and breathed; good clothing for a fight.

"Making eggs Benedict." Anna said, turning back to the stove.

John continued to eat his eggs and toast, looking between the two curiously.

When Sherlock didn't respond, Anna turned around. She scoffed briefly. "You don't remember me, _do you_?" Anna accused.

Sherlock kept his face stoic, and just blinked.

John, on the other hand, wondered how _anyone_ could forget Anna.

"If you deleted me, _I swear to God_ , I'm gonna punch you in the nose again." Anna said threateningly, putting the spatula she was holding down.

"John, shoot her." Sherlock suddenly spoke.

"What?" John asked, mouth full.

Anna jucked cocked a hip, smirked and shook her head.

"A simple home invasion. You feared for your safety." Sherlock drawled on. "You won't be convicted."

"But I _don't_ fear for my safety." John said offhandedly, taking another bit of his eggs.

Anna walked up to Sherlock, and backhanded him across the face. The detective stumbled slightly, almost tripped on the bedsheets, and Anna gave him a swift hit in the nose, making him fall to the floor.

Sherlock looked up at Anna with narrowed eyes, using his bedsheet to mop up the blood from his nose.

"Ah..." He said, sitting up. " _Annabelle_."

Putting a hand on her hip, Anna glared down at Sherlock. "Holmes, _do not_ call me Annabelle." She turned away from him and went back to the stove. "If you want the case I've brought, _go put on pants_."

Wordlessly, Sherlock stood and shuffled towards his bedroom.

"He deleted you?" John asked, sipping his tea; Anna nodded. "I thought he deleted stuff permanently."

"Stuff deleted from his head _is_ gone forever, technically." Anna began to explain. "It's damn near impossible to delete stuff from your brain. My theory is that it's all very _repressed_ , not _deleted_. A thing I know for sure, _muscle memory_ is never gone."

"...Which is why you hit him." John finished, nodding slightly.

"Yeah," Anna nodded as well. "And, you know. He's an _irritating_ son of a bitch."

John laughed at that, shrugging slightly as if to say 'yeah, well...'

Not 15 minutes later, Sherlock returned to the kitchen. He was wearing clothes this time. "You have a case?" He asked abruptly.

" _Of course_ I do." Anna responded, she sounded almost insulted.

"National security risks?" Sherlock pried, he was getting more giddy by the moment. Well, _Sherlock's_ version of giddy. The type of giddy he got when Lestrade brought him the first case John witnessed.

" _Obviously_."

"Your country or mine?"

Anna rolled her eyes. "You know, it shouldn't really matter... _But,_ since you asked, _both_."

"Dangerous?"

"Why do you think I clued _him_ in?" Anna asked, poking her spatula towards John.

"Where do we start?"

"Right here." Anna said, putting a plate with eggs Benedict and some sausage in front of Sherlock.

The detective rolled his eyes. "No time to eat. _The case_ -"

"-will be there when you're done." Anna cut him off. "Last time I dealt with you for _six days_ and you were like a cranky toddler without a nap."

She leaned over the counter and spun a fork in her fingers; taunting him. "It involves your brother." Anna said in a soft, sing-song voice. Sherlock frowned, and took the fork. He began shoveling food into his mouth at an alarming rate; John just watched in shock.

"How'd you do that?" He asked Anna, who just winked at him and went back to the kitchen.

She made one more scrambled egg and ate it out of the pan. On the last bite, she closed her eyes and sighed.

"Who invented scrambled eggs?" Anna asked suddenly, making John look up from his plate. He shrugged, and Sherlock held up his hand.

After he swallowed, he spoke. "Romans beat eggs for custard dishes. The Irish made them famous in modern times."

" _Why_ , in the name of _sanity_ , would you need to know _that_?" Anna asked, putting the pan in the sink.

Sherlock was already back to scarfing down his food. Anna rolled her eyes, and began putting the rest of the food in the refrigerator. She was about to put the cheese in, the first item, when she sighed. "Do I want to know why you have a jar of human tongues in your fridge?"

"It's an _experiment_ ," Sherlock answered, mouth full. Anna rolled her eyes and continued stocking the fridge.

Rather suddenly, loud noises came from the floor below. John and Anna both looked at the door, waiting for whoever it was to come in. The door didn't open; it was kicked in. Two men entered, guns drawn.

"What the hell is this?" John asked, getting up from the table. The two men zeroed in on Anna, and ignored John.

Anna hopped up on the counter, her legs dangling off the side. "Hello boys!" She said cheerfully. "Scotland Yard?" She guessed.

"Get off the counter and put your hands behind your head." One barked at her.

"Hm, so, not Scotland Yard." Anna frowned, her lower lip jutted out slightly.

"Her Majesty's Secret Service?" Sherlock put in, in his baritone voice.

Anna snorted. "You're _kidding_ , right? Me and Lizzie are on _great_ terms! She sent me a Christmas card with photos of the Corgies last year," she added proudly.

"Get off the counter and put your hands behind your head," the same man barked again.

Anna rolled her eyes, and slid off the counter. She sighed lazily as she put her hands behind her head, linking her fingers together.

"Hold on!" John said, standing up. "Where are you taking her?"

"John take three steps back." Anna said in a flat tone as silver handcuffs were locked around her wrists.

"What?-How can you be so calm-?"

Sherlock grabbed John's shoulder and yanked him back just as Anna kicked behind her, jamming her heel into the thigh of the first man.

The second tried to grab her in a choke hold, but Anna only smiled.

She threw her head back into his nose and it gave a sickening crunch. Her hands were still behind her back, and she unbuckled the man's belt before he stumbled back, holding his bloody nose. Anna jumped up, bringing her legs up to her chest so she could swing her linked hands in front of her. She landed on the first man's back, and he let out a short scream. It was cut short when the belt swung and his mouth was jammed with leather. Anna spun on one heel and gave the second man roundhouse kick to the chest, sending him back into the stairwell. The first man managed to get up to his hands and knees, and with a grunt, Anna gave him a swift kick in the ass, sending his head into the wall. He slumped down unconscious.

"John, you might wanna get dressed," Anna said casually, shifting in the handcuffs before slipping out of them.

"How'd you-?" Cutting his question about the handcuffs off, John shook his head and went to change.

Several minutes later, the detective, the soldier and Anna left 221B Baker Street. Anna had pulled on an incredibly expensive looking dark gray coat, an even more expensive looking shoulder bag across her chest and opened Mycroft's umbrella over her head.

"So what's the case?" Sherlock asked, adjusting his scarf around his neck.

"There's an emerging extremist group in Montenegro, the Black Hand." Anna started.

"The Black Hand..." John repeated under his breath; the name sounded familiar.

"In the early 20th century there was a group with the same name. They killed the Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife Sophie," she clarified. "They consider themselves the descendants of that group, but the ideals are _radically_ different. They use the name as a fear factor more than anything else...I doubt "

"I've been in the area for the past few months. Tracking movements, capturing members and preventing small-scale attacks." Anna paused and frowned.

"What's their motive?' Sherlock asked, his sharp eyes narrowed slightly.

"They haven't gone public with a whole lot as of yet, but I think it's all political." Anna turned down a block, and the two men followed her. "I've found ties to the top prime minister candidate for the elections in Serbia in just a few months."

"I thought you said the problem was in Montenegro," John said with a frown. As much as he wanted to trust the pretty woman who showed up in their flat, took down two large men while handcuffed and knew Sherlock, there was a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that he should _run_.

"Yeah, that's where all the bodies are. Croatia, Bulgaria and Romania too." Anna sighed sadly. "Like I said, I think it's political."

"Ensue panic and fear in surrounding countries, and support for Adam Crncevic, the pro-military candidate, grows." Sherlock stated.

Anna nodded, "Crncevic has ties to Iran and Yemen in areas hot with Al Qaeda and other militant groups. S.H.I.E.L.D. found some early speeches and analyzed them." She took a breath and pulled two files out of her bag. She handed one to each of the men walking on either side of her. "Extremist tones in the past, oppressive language and a private army 900 strong; all the makings of a dictator."

Sherlock was flipping through the file Anna gave him furiously, taking in all the information he could. John, on the other hand, was looking at the closed file in his hands. It was gray, vaguely metallic, and had a round eagle symbol in the center.

"What is _S.H.I.E.L.D._?" He asked, looking back at Anna.

"The Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division." Sherlock rattled off, a bored tone to his voice. "The American's version of MI6."

Anna snorted. "MI6?" She asked, laughing. " _That's_ what you compare S.H.I.E.L.D. too?"

The detective gave her a sharp look. "They have bases and agents all over the world. There has hardly been an event in the last fifty years that they have not been involved in."

"Not _here_ ," John confirmed, but it was almost a question.

"1345 Globe Street, 20204 Holywell Lane, 9831 Tabernacle Street." Anna rattled off, then glanced at John. "Those are the active bases within five miles of Baker Street. There are several dozen safehouses for S.H.I.E.L.D. agents and witnesses in those five miles...Just 'cause we started in the States, doesn't mean we're confined to it."

"You're aware that Crncevic is fond of prostitutes?" Sherlock asked, still sifting through the file which John had just opened.

"Asian ones to be more specific." Anna nodded. "He helped finance several brothels through countless shell companies. In return, madams and pimps fly girls in from China and Japan."

Sherlock snapped his file shut and spun in his step so he was in front of Anna. He held the file under the blonde woman's nose and glared. "Where's the rest?" He asked her.

Anna raised her brows. "Excuse me?" She chuckled.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. wouldn't bother itself with something so _pedestrian_ as a corrupt prime minister." Sherlock accused.

"We do when there are children being killed." Anna shot back.

"What aren't you telling us?" John put in. He could see the worry grow in Anna's brown eyes.

She frowned and glanced at the ground briefly. "Crncevic would benefit most from the terrorist attacks, but Nickol Rezník is the leader of the Black Hand leader, currently in Montenegro. He only answers to Crncevic...He's using strategies and maneuvers no one in the world has ever seen. Until the Battle of New York, that is."

John's brows rose. It'd been almost a year since every television in the world showed aliens raining down from the sky. After Sherlock saw it, it was a few months before he spoke in full sentences again. He had to work aliens into his logical thinking and it wasn't easy on Sherlock, or John, Mrs. Hudson, Mycroft, the man who delivered Chinese food...Basically everyone around him during Sherlock's slight mental breakdown.

"The Chitauri, yeah?" John asked, getting a nod. "You think this Rezník working with them?"

Anna rolled her eyes. "The Chitauri wouldn't bother with a human only interested on destruction on a small scale. We think he has Chitauri tech, and people capable of understanding it. The only thing we _know_ , is that he doesn't have weapons."

John frowned deeper, and Sherlock had his hands pressed together, fingers steepled, the S.H.I.E.L.D. file under his arm. "Why not...Why not storm wherever Rezník is hole up in Montenegro?"

Anna's gaze flicked down.

"They already tried." Sherlock stated.

Anna scowled and shook her head. "Three days ago the _third_ attempt to take Rezník's compound failed...Seven S.H.I.E.L.D. agents died, bringing the total to twenty-three."

"We got wind that an MI6 operative in Hercegnovi had footage of the Chitauri tech in use. S.H.I.E.L.D. reached out and got shot down. After some...creative, maneuvering through the British government, we located the footage." Anna smiled sweetly and spun the black umbrella over her shoulder.

"That's why you're here," she added, glancing between Sherlock and John.

"You used me to get to _Mycroft_?" Sherlock asked, his voice growing with rage.

Anna just rolled her eyes. "Oh _please_ , Holmes. _Yeah_ , you here make certain your brother doesn't shoot me, but I think you can help figure out the tech if we find it." She paused to shrug. "Better clue you in now than later."

"What about me?" John asked, his brow furrowed.

"If we do find the tech, _he_ -" Anna shot a look at Sherlock. "-will need someone to protect him that he won't ditch."

John nodded slowly. He wasn't a fan of the idea, but understood. "You said he killed children."

Anna nodded again. "On Crncevic's orders, Rezník's men attacked a school. They said it was because they parents of the children were wealthy and it was all for ransom...107 children died for a little over $1.8 million dollars."

Sherlock made a sound; somewhere between disgust and convention. John just shook his head.

Anna was looking at the black limousine that pulled to a stop next to them on the road.

A voice crackled in her ear for the first time all morning.

" _You expecting a ride Flare?_ "

Anna raise two fingers to her ear, making Sherlock and John watch curiously. "Negative. Run the plates." She took a few steps to the left so she could see the license plate.

"Care to be less obvious?" Sherlock offered, referring to her fingers by her ear.

"They're not hiding, why should I?" Anna muttered before reading off the license plate to TJ. "Alpha. Quebec. Three. Six. Three. Whisky."

"Copy..." TJ mumbled. The young agent was in one of the safehouses Anna mentioned to John. TJ liked London; lots of traffic cameras. And with the S.H.I.E.L.D. mainframe at his beck and call, it was easy to run plates and keep an eye on Anna.

" _Government car. Signed out to the older Holmes_."

Anna frowned, then sighed. "Goin' dark." She said, and didn't wait for a response from her backup. She pulled her earbud out and tucked it the inner pocket of her jacket. Anna knew she'd get crap from TJ about that later, but she'd take it like she always did. He didn't mean to be annoying, he just cared about her.

She smiled at John and Sherlock, then started for the car. "Are you comin' or not?" She called over her shoulder.

The three sat in the back of the limo; Anna last, because she had to close up the umbrella. She fell into the seat next to John, and sighed heavily. "Thought it was gonna be like Harbin for a moment there." She said under her breath.

She closed the door and the car started moving.

"Hello." A monotone, bored voice drawled from the other end of the limo.

Anna glanced over and saw a dark haired woman on her phone. "Hey," Anna responded, looking out the tinted window. "Big Brother Holmes send you to pick us up?" She asked.

"Uh... _Maybe_." She sighed lazily.

The vague answer made Anna's brows raise up. "Alright then...What's your name?"

"Anthena." John answered when the woman remained silent. '

"Anthena... _Right_ ," Anna scoffed, turning to look out the window. "Does Mycroft have the footage?"

No response. She just kept tapping away on her phone.

Anna huffed and started playing with the controls on the door panel. The divider between the driver and the back of the car went up and down, the radio turned on and off, then she found the one that made the window go up and down.

"Excuse me," Anna sighed, reaching across both men, bracing her hand on Sherlock's leg, and inadvertently shoving her chest in John's face, so she could snatch Anthena's phone.

"Hey!" The woman yelped.

Anna fell back into her seat and tossed the Blackberry out the window. After rolling it back up, she looked at the slack jawed, stunned woman. Sherlock and John were trying hard not to laugh at the display.

" _Well_ , now that I have your attention, care to tell me where we're going?" Anna asked casually, brushing invisible lint off her jeans.

* * *

It was a short ride to Mycroft's office, but John had to ask Anna a qustion. He leaned towards her slightly "Are you the Blue Flare?"

Anna rolled her eyes andd groaned, letting her head loll back on the seat. "That name got all the way over here?" She asked pittifiully. Smiling, John nodded. Anna threw an arm over her eyes and it stayed there until the limo stopped.

Anna got out first, and played with the umbrella while the other three passengers exited the car.

"You know, I've never entered this place from the back," Anna announced as the car drove away. She leaned on the umbrella. "It's _uncomfortable_."

Anthena shot Anna a dirty look, and started towards the doors. She pushed them open and began walking down the grand hallway. "You better tell him what you did to my phone." She

threatened lowly as she led them to Mycroft's office.

"Relax, _Anthena_ ," Anna said in the same threatening tone. "I'll buy you a new one."

Anna paused and pulled out a stiff white card. "File with my office. You should have a new phone by...Oh, next November." Anthena's brows raised up, and Anna gave a sweet smile. "Welcome to the American government."

Sherlock and John were already in Mycroft's office. The older Holmes brother was standing by the window, hands clasped behind his back.

"Sorry about your umbrella." Anna sighed, sitting on the edge of a chair in front of Mycroft's desk. Her back was straight, and her ankles were crossed in a ladylike manner; very different than the brutally accurate fighter John and Sherlock saw in their flat. She shrugged slightly. "You didn't answer my calls."

"Because we have nothing to discuss, Miss Brightman." Mycroft sighed.

Anna rolled her eyes. "Oh, you know damn well it's Dr. Brightman."

"Dr. Anna Brightman," John cut in. He'd been standing off to the side, arms crossed. "Doctor _Annabelle_ Brightman?"

Anna smiled and looked over her shoulder. "I forgot you were in the Army," she admitted. "So, you probably know me as...Heaven in a Uniform?"

"It's Yankee Fighter, actually." John corrected.

Anna smiled and nodded a little. "Yeah...Yeah, Heaven in a Uniform is the German Navy."

"I told you about the Yankee Fighter, didn't I?" John asked, and Sherlock nodded wordlessly.

"Annabelle Jane Brightman, born April 4, 1919." Sherlock drawled after a moment. Anna rolled her eyes when Sherlock pointed out how old she actually was.

"Good, now that we're all on the same page," Anna paused and held her hand out towards Mycroft. "The footage from Montenegro, please."

Mycroft chuckled once, and turned away from the window. "That footage was obtained during an MI6 operation, by an MI6 agent, and is therefor property of the British government." He sat down behind his desk and clasped his hands over it. "You will have to go through proper channels."

"I tried, but the proper channels say it doesn't exist." Anna responded smartly.

"Well..." Mycroft trailed off, leaning back in his chair. "Perhaps the _CIA_ should do it's own leg work."

Both Sherlock and John scoffed.

Anna just smiled. "Mycroft Holmes," she sighed, standing up. She braced her hands on his desk and leaned forward.

"The _CIA_ , can _kiss my ass._ "

Pushing herself up off the desk, she walked around the office, looking at the shelves and frames on the wall while tapping on her leg.

"I'm not CIA, I'm S.H.I.E.L.D." Anna explained vaguely, still tapping on her leg.

Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Ah...That explains the breaking and entering in my home just for a _meeting_."

Anna smiled. "What can I say? S.H.I.E.L.D. has a flair for the dramatic."

"I've heard Sherlock refer to you _**as**_ the British government...So, if we're using terms like that, I feel I should inform you as something." Anna came over to perch on the edge of Mycroft's desk. "If you're the British government, then I'm the _American_ government."

"We have pissed off 19-year-olds with body armor and automatic weapons, aliens falling from the sky, and a stock of nukes big enough to blow you off the map." Anna said sweetly. "We have loud, ignorant people, cheeseburgers with chips and hot dogs on them, and media that would just _love_ to hear that the British government refused to hand over key evidence."

Mycroft swallowed, but shook his head.

"Once we are through with it, you can go through proper channels-"

"Good to see you Mycroft!" Anna chirped, cutting him off. "If you come to your senses, your bitch of an assistant has my card. Let's go boys!"

John had to jog to keep up with Anna and Sherlock, who were rushing to the door.

"There's a terrorist with alien technology in the pocket of a corrupt politician, and we just walked out of there _why_?" John asked once they were outside.

"Did you get it?" Anna asked, glancing at Sherlock.

The curly-haired detective wordlessly flipped a coin towards her. She caught it, and held it up to the sky, turning as she did.

"What's a coin got to do with anything?" John asked, growing more and more irritated. "When did you tell him to take it? I was with both of you the whole time!"

* * *

 _"The_ _ **CIA**_ _, can_ _ **kiss my ass**_ _."_

 _Pushing herself up off the desk, she walked around the office, looking at the shelves and frames on the wall while tapping on her leg._

 _It took less than a second for Sherlock to notice the Morse Code Anna was tapping on her leg._

 _... -_

 _ **50**_

 _In response, he tapped his knuckle softly on the window sill._

 _.-. . -.-. . .. ...- . -.._

 _ **Received**_

 _"I'm not CIA, I'm S.H.I.E.L.D." Anna explained vaguely, still tapping on her leg._

 _-.-. . -. -_

 _ **cent**_

 _.-. . -.-. . .. ...- . -.._

 _ **Received**_

 _Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Ah...That explains the breaking and entering in my home just for a meeting."_

 _. ..- .-. -_

 _ **Euro**_

 _.-. . -.-. . .. ...- . -.._

 _ **Received**_

 _Anna smiled. "What can I say? S.H.I.E.L.D. has a flair for the dramatic."_

 _While his brother was looking at the woman in tight pants approach his desk, Sherlock stealthily reached into the pocket of his brother's overcoat, which was hung up by the door. Unfortunately, Mycroft had several coins in his pocket. Most likely for this very reason._

 _"I've heard Sherlock refer to you_ _ **as**_ _the British government...So, if we're using terms like that, I feel I should inform you as something." Anna came over to perch on the edge of Mycroft's desk. "If you're the British government, then I'm the_ _ **American**_ _government."_

 _"We have pissed off 19-year-olds with body armor and automatic weapons, aliens falling from the sky, and a stock of nukes big enough to blow you off the map." Anna said sweetly. "We have loud, ignorant people, cheeseburgers with chips and hot dogs on them, and media that would just love to hear that the British government refused to hand over key evidence."_

 _Mycroft swallowed, but shook his head._

 _Sherlock located the only Euro coin amongst the others. He pocketed it, and returned to his spot by the window._

 _-. - - .. -_

 _"Once we are through with it, you can go through proper channels-"_

 _ **Got it**_

 _"Good to see you Mycroft!" Anna chirped, cutting him off. "If you come to your senses, your bitch of an assistant has my card. Let's go boys!"_

* * *

Anna smiled as Sherlock explained. It was funny to see a six-foot-something grown man who was serious so much of the time smile and act almost _giddy_.

She sighed and put her earbud back in. "I got it TJ. Let's go home."

" _Be there soon_."

"So, we go to Montenegro now, yeah?" John asked; Sherlock's excitement was infectious. Yeah, he'd be going to a dangerous situation with Chitauri technology, but _he'd be going into a dangerous situation with Chitauri technology!_

"You boys go home." Anna told them, standing on the curb and watching the street.

Sherlock's dark brows furrowed. "You said we'd-"

"S.H.I.E.L.D. needs to analyse the footage and breach the compound before I can even _consider_ bring you two down there." A flat black SUV stopped in front of Anna, and she opened the back door. She put her bag in, and turned back to the two me on the sidewalk; they both looked a little let down.

"Go home. Eat something. Get a good nights rest. Catch up on some TV. Take a new case in a few days." Anna told them. "I know where to find you, ok?"

"When will we need to go?" John asked, his brows furrowed.

"Oh, you'll know." Anna said with a smile, and a wink, before she hopped up into the SUV.

"See you soon Sherlock." Anna said, then looked at John. "Dr. Watson."

* * *

"Oh! Sherlock! John!" Mrs. Hudon called when she heard the men go up the stairs.

"A _lovely_ young man dropped these off for you." She said, two boxes and an envelope in her arms.

"He leave a name?" John asked, helping put the boxes on a clearer spot on the table.

"No," the landlady said, shaking her head. "He was America." She pointed out while John opened the envelope.

Sherlock had jumped to his chair the moment he returned home, and was sitting there as John pulled the contents of the envelope out. The Army doctor gasped, and his eyes widened.

 _Dear John and Sherlock,_

 _Thank you for your help; couldn't have done it without you. Well, I could have, but then I couldn't come back to London for a decade or so and I'm looking forward to my birthday dinner with Lizzie this year._

 _I saw you were a little behind on your rent at Baker Street. Now, I said I know where to find you, and by that I mean I can pretty much find you anywhere. But, to save time, paperwork and manpower, here's a little help._

 _~AB_

 _PS~ John, I have to ask; have you heard anymore nicknames I've gotten over the years?_

Attached to the heavy, monogrammed stationery was a check for _£100,000._

"Oh, Sherlock, this one is for you." Mrs. Hudson said, holding out a rather large box wrapped in black paper with a blue/gray stain bow.

Like a sulking child, Sherlock grabbed the box and ripped the bow off and flicked the lid halfway across the room. The box was lined with black foam, and had small white bones pressed into it. His eyes widened, and he lept from the chair to the kitchen. He swiped the bowls and dishes off the counter. There were three layers of foam in the box that held bones, and a fourth that held what was necessary to string the skeleton together and make it stand. The round, wooden base had a small gold plaque.

 _Pinguinus Impennis_

" _Great Auk_." Sherlock mumbled, already stringing bones together with the thin wire. The great auk had been extinct since the 1840s; they had been small, flightless birds not too different than a penguin.

John was looking curiously at the box he had. He was curious to open in; Anna had gotten Sherlock something that was absolutely perfect for him. Then again, Anna had met Sherlock before.

Pushing the red bow off the off-white paper, John lifted the lid of his present.

His brows rose, and his mouth almost fell slack.

"Oh... _Wow_." Was all he could manage to get out.

One day with Anna, and she knew him better than his own mother.

* * *

 **10 Months Later**

It was a quiet afternoon in 221B Baker Street.

John was in his chair, a mug of tea in his hands as he flipped idly through channels. Sherlock was in the kitchen doing something with custard, batteries and human toes. They finished a case the day before, and both men were content with staying at home.

A loud pop came from the kitchen, along with sounds that were along the lines of electrified goo dripping off the table. John turned the TV up slightly to cover to cover the sound.

John was contemplating making a sandwich when there was a knock on the door. The Army doctor got up with a slight frown to answer the door.

"Hi, I'm looking for Dr. John Watson and Sherlock Holmes?" The young man had dark hair, and a rather boyish face but a sharper nose.

"We're not taking any cases today," John said, starting to close the door.

"Oh, uh, no. I'm here on behalf of Anna Brightman." The boy said quickly.

"Where is she?" Sherlock said, suddenly behind John.

Shifting slightly, the young man, TJ, held out two envelopes; one for Watson and one for Holmes. Each contained a first class ticket, and John's updated passport.

"Anna's waiting for you both in Montenegro." He told them.


	13. Chapter 13: My Gaurdian Angel

**You know those cute little one shots I was doing? Yeah, those are done. I'm not saying I won't put them in later (or possible in _Pieces of Them_ ), but they're done for now. **

**I mentioned this before, but with everyone talking about the end-credit scene in Ant-Man and Civil War...I feel like I need to catch up a little.**

 **ANOTHER NOTE AT THE END OF THE CHAPTER**

* * *

Anna POV

" _Hey_...Hey Ells!" I called, reaching over to shake her shoulder.

"Mmmm...Leave me alone!" Ellie mumbled, curling in tighter with the wool blanket and pillow she had up on her bunk.

"If you don't wake up, you'll miss breakfast," I sighed, running the last of my hair through my flat iron. I was standing in front of a barely clean mirror

"I'm sick of Chai and rice for breakfast." Ellie said lazily, her arm dangling off the bunk the monks gave her. I'd taken the bottom bunk; closer to the fight if need be.

"Maybe if you got up earlier you'd get some of the buffalo bacon." I said idly, gently shaking out the still hot hair on the left side of my head.

Ellie's messy head popped up. "Buffalo bacon?"

For the past few months, Ellie and I have been traveling around the world to every obscure person that could tell her who she is. Her abilities had leveled out; she hadn't started any fires when she sneezed lately, she hadn't caused any electrical events or levitated in her sleep (that one scared the crap out of a Baltic room attendant), and she didn't need her glasses anymore. We were in Nepal now, with some monks who were helping Ellie achieve such a deep meditation that she could walk around her inner consciousness and discover the obstacles in her path. So far, she's seen a man with a long white beard and a harp, a big ash tree, and a white star.

What she saw _terrified_ her. Ellie used to not be able to fall asleep unless she was looking up at the sky and stars. Now she closed the curtains well before nightfall and covered her head with the blanket.

"When are we going home?" Ellie sighed as she stretched her arms over her head.

"You said you always wanted to go to Nepal," I reminded her as I pulled my hair into a ponytail.

"Yeah..." She admitted, sliding out of the bunk. "But when I said that I meant I wanted to see Nepal towards the end of a trip that started in Edinburgh and ended in Tokyo...I wanted to backpack around with a cute boy and take Polaroids along the way."

I tossed her a fleece sweater.

"Polaroids?" I asked, leaning on the bunk beds.

"I _like_ Polaroids," Ellie defended herself, pulling on the fleece sweater.

We walked out of the room we shared in the monastery and stopped dead.

Ellie's hands flew to cover her mouth and nose; she was holding in a gasp. There were 156 monks at the monastery we were at. Instead of being shocked, I just blinked and took in the scene.

In front of me, in the large room used for meditation, were almost 200 bodies.

Now, just because they were monks, it didn't mean they were defenseless. A few dozen bodied in black laid amongst the monks clad in orange and dark red. People thought that just because these Buddhist monks renounced violence that weren't any good at it. They were; they got into such a focused, meditative state that could put twice the force behind one punch. They didn't stand a chance against automatic weapons though.

"Ellie...Ellie go get your stuff." I said slowly, reaching for the knife on my hip. When she didn't move, I gave her a shove. "Get mine too." I called, walking towards one of the men clad in black.

Using my foot, I pushed him on his back. The patch on his chest made an acidic feeling crawl up my throat.

A skull and tentacles.

" _HYDRA_." I breathed, squatting down by the man. I pushed his gasmask and tactical helmet up off his head, and took his pulse. Nothing.

 _Good_.

I searched him, took his gun and ammunition, a few tear gas grenades, a taser, a radio and a knife. When Ellie brought me my bag, I dumped out most of my clothes and threw the stolen equipment into the bag. I searched the other 23 HYDRA men, and put their equipment in the bag as well. The last one I searched had a small hard drive in his pocket. I threw it in my pocket and hiked my bag over my shoulder.

"What-What about them?" Ellie asked, whimpering as she almost stepped on one of the monk's robe.

"Two birds with one stone," I said as I led us through the kitchen. I took the knife from my hip and went to the stoves. "A warrior's death and no trace we were there."

"Throw anything flammable you can on the floor. Oil, butter, grease, gas, anything you can." I told Ellie as I cut the igniters on the stove and turned them on; gas built up in the air. I grabbed her arm and pushed her outside.

A few hundred yards away, I turned and fired one shot towards the kitchen. It set off a blaze.

I sat Ellie down on a rock and made her sing 'Somewhere Over the Rainbow' a few times to calm down. I washed the fire eat up and destroy the monetary which had been standing in the low mountains for over 200 years. Hire was many things to me, mostly happy things. But this wasn't good fire. This fire was the start of a war; me against HYDRA.

I told Ellie she had to stay close and keep her head down; I was going to get us to a S.H.I.E.L.D. safehouse. I had no idea what was going on, but I _knew_ that the guns I took from the guy with the HYDRA patch were S.H.I.E.L.D. issue. I needed a secure line to call Fury.

Peggy and I set up the S.H.I.E.L.D. presence in this small village in the 60s. The monks here had been crucial helping agents who lost memories through accidents or age, and they helped people we found with abilities control them. The monastery was at least ten miles from the village itself, so Ellie and I had a hike ahead of us, since I didn't remember to grab some donkeys.

Ellie and I made our way to the small market place, she kept her head down and my own was up and alert, like it had been for the last few hours of walking.

"What's going on Anna?" Ellie asked softly. "I-I have a bad feeling...Deep down in the pit of my stomach, like a block of lead."

I didn't answer. I had stopped in the middle of the market place, staring straight ahead at the three men standing outside a small, unassuming building.

"You remember where the train station is?" I asked. Ellie made a little sound and nodded. "I want you to go there and buy three tickets."

"To where?"

"I don't care where. Just buy three tickets for the noon train. If I'm not there when it leaves, get on it and call Phil and Fury first chance you get." When she didn't move, I sent her a glance. " _Go_."

I threw my bag over my shoulder and went behind a building. I sweet talked the owner of the building to let me borrow his ladder and climb onto his roof. Once there, I dug through the bag. I pulled out a rifle and the radio. I turned the radio on as I checked the rifle over.

It went through all the channels until I heard voices. I rested the rifle on the roof, got down on my stomach behind it and looked through the scope.

" _He says he doesn't know anything._ "

" _Try again. I'll get you more water._ "

'He' was Agent Maxwell, I'm guessing. I brought the radio closer and pressed a button.

"You have six seconds to get out of the building before I start blowing heads away." I said lowly.

I heard six voices all begin to yell at one another. I rolled my eyes and spoke again. "Just _shut up_ and get your asses outside!" I hissed.

There was a pause.

" _Let me guess_ ," a female voice sighed. " _ **S.H.I.E.L.D.**_ "

"Doesn't really matter who I am," I told her, adjusting the scope so I could read the name of the brand over one man's jacket, right over his heart. "All you need to know is I have a _Colombia_ logo in my crosshairs."

The agent in the jacket began looking around wildly.

" _Stop moving around!_ " The woman snapped. She sounded my age. Or, my _physical_ age. " _Look, we have one of yours in here. Who_ _ **really**_ _has the leverage here?_ "

I sighed and moved the rifle so the scope saw in through a window. I saw just a glimpse of black hair, and a gloved hand to an ear. "Leverage has nothing to do with this. See, you need something from Maxwell, or you would have put a bullet in his brain instead of waterboarding him."

The men outside shared a look.

" _Dream Girl_." One of them said under their breath.

I chuckled. "A Navy man. I approve."

" _You know HYDRA. You know how we work._ " The woman said. " _Cut off one head, two more take it's place._ "

"See, I'm not a big fan of _beheading_." I told her, training the crosshairs back on the man in the _Columbia_ jacket. "A bullet in the head is more my style."

" _You need S.H.I.E.L.D.'s permission before killing anyone._ " She snapped. " _You have no real power in this situation."_

"You're right. I don't _have_ power. So I'll just have to take some."

I pulled the trigger.

* * *

Ellie had finally fallen asleep.

I made it to the train station with Agent Ollie (Oliver, technically) Maxwell just ten minutes before it left. Ellie used some of the tricks the monks taught her to heal Ollie's wounds a little, and gave him a little sumethin'-sumthin' to knock him out.

I snuck into the luggage car and stole a laptop. I typed in the address for a marble polishing company based in Laos. I put in the address _744353 Front Main Street Carshalton, NH_ , and connected to the S.H.I.E.L.D. mainframe.

I tried to put out a message to anybody listening that the main Nepal base was compromised. There was never a whole lot of action there; it was usually where traumatized agents went for a few months to recuperate; like Ollie. He'd been in Nepal for a year or two after an op went wrong in Kenya. He seemed to be doing alright now; it was raining and he wasn't screaming.

I put the message out to all agents, then tried to get into the main database to poke around for a woman who worked with a crew like the one I saw.

My screen flickered and went fuzzy with static. I tried all basic commands, and nothing happened.

A cursor popped up, then words rolled across the screen.

 _ **OUT OF THE SHADOWS AND INTO THE LIGHT**_

The cursor blinked, then the screen went black. As quick as it went black, it went red. A black skull and tentacles glowed on the screen, and new words appeared.

 _ **HYDRA**_

I slammed the laptop shut and took a few deep breaths. I needed to calm myself down.

This explained everything; the breach in the Nepal safe house, the agents trying to get Ollie...

HYDRA was in S.H.I.E.L.D.

It was terrifying, but at the same time, I wasn't scared. I've seen HYDRA beaten once before. I _helped_ beat HYDRA once before.

But I had Peggy, Howard and the Commandos by my side last time. I was alone now. Well, I had my new team; Steve, Tony, Clint and Natasha, Bruce, Kara and Thor.

But I still felt alone.

I kept reminding myself that this was _what I did_ , what I was _trained for_.

I gripped his dog tags tight, and ran my thumb over the ridges of the lettering.

Halfway to calm and asleep, I remembered the HYDRA hard drive. I pulled the small, shiny metal rectangle from my bag. The HYDRA symbol that used to haunt my dreams was matte against the smooth, shiny plastic.

I found a standard cable in the bottom on Ellie's bag, and plugged it into the laptop, which had rebooted and showed the plain start screen. It took a second to load, and opened without a password. I guess they didn't think anybody was going to search the guy so thoroughly; it _was_ under his foot in his boot. I looked at the mission file, the last one opened, and frowned.

The mission was to _obtain_ Ellie. Not kill or capture. _Obtain_. Like she was an object, or a weapon. There was no mention of me or the kickass monks. An acidic feeling crawled up my throat when I saw three S.H.I.E.L.D. agents listed on the HYDRA file for this mission. I met two of them at the academy; they seemed like stand-up agents.

I closed the file, and slowly moved my cursor to the search tab.

 _Did I want to know what HYDRA had on me?_

"Yeah." I said through an exhale.

I typed my name, _ANNABELLE JANE BRIGHTMAN_ , and hit enter.

Photos were the first thing that came up. I scrolled through them quickly with the spade bar.

The one I sent to Bucky while he was overseas and I was still at Camp Leigh.

Pictures of me leaving the secret lab in Brooklyn. Howard Stark and I getting lunch at the cafe around the corner, Peggy and me walking arm and arm with a few shopping bags, and me sitting on the steps waiting for a ride back to New Jersey.

Picture of me crying at Bucky and Steve's funeral; they'd taken them so I was centered in the pictures, Howard, Peggy and Kara were only in the background.

Me testifying at the Nuremberg trials, and comforting the victims who also testified. Me punching a Nazi in the throat.

Me moving into my apartment in Brooklyn. Photos taken through the windows as Howard installed my safe, Kara eating pizza with me on the floor and Peggy rearranging furniture.

Korea.

Vietnam.

Russia.

Kiev.

Bagdad.

There was a single mission I went to that HYDRA didn't seem to know about; any _S.H.I.E.L.D._ mission Hydra didn't know about. My trips for Charlie weren't listed, nor were my other... _projects_.

I stopped dead at one picture, and my breath got shaky.

It was a portrait photo of Bucky and Steve's grave. I was wearing outdated, dirty fatigues and my hair was a ratsnest. It was dark; all light came from either the moon, or the dim overhead lights.

I had my eyes closed, and a gun under my chin.

I pressed the spacebar repeatedly until I was passed the pictures. They had files on me going back to...The dates on the early files coincide with Bucky's incarceration at the HYDRA camp.

Ellie bought tickets to Kota, India, so I had about, oh, 10 hours left to kill. I began reading all the files HYDRA had on me.

* * *

Eight hours later, I closed the last file; the one about New York. Thank God, because I've been pretty busy in the two years since then and I didn't want anybody else implicated with HYDRA.

I had slouched down to a sad, curled up position with the laptop balancing on my knees.

At the bottom was a secondary file; _**RELATED FILES**_. I clicked it, and found a list of pretty much everyone I've ever met on a mission or went on a mission with. Steve was on it, Natasha, Clint, Bruce, even Charles Xavier.

At the bottom of the list I found a name that made me growl.

 _JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES_

My growling stopped when I noticed the 'Last Edited' date on the file.

Yesterday.

Bucky's file was edited _yesterday_ when he's been dead for _68 years_.

The cursor hovered over the file while I debated whether or not I wanted to know what was in it.

I clicked.

* * *

"Nobody understands how much I _miss you_...Miss how much we used to talk and miss all the things we used to do. I try not to admit it to myself that I still feel this way. Nobody knows that I still wake up thinking about you and I really do miss you. I would give up _everything_ I've _ever_ _had_ to have _everything_ we would have had together."

Thunder rumbled in the distance, but I didn't move an inch.

Steve was probably worried. I told him I'd check in with him first thing when I got back, but I needed to see him. Then again, when I told Steve I'd check in with him after I got back, it was before S.H.I.E.L.D. fell. I'll bet Bucky's og tags that if I called his house, no one would answer.

I was hunched over the stone, my hands on the corners and forehead pressed to the cold, damp stone over his name.

Ellie was safe and sound upstate now; she was exhausted. Ollie went with her; HYDRA did a number on him and he needed to lay low.

"I-I _miss you_." I said shakily, tracing my fingers over the carved letters in his name. I felt a few drops on my head, but I didn't move away from Bucky's stone. I let the sky open up over me as I knelt in front of his stone. I moved one hand to hold his dog tags. "I...Darlin' I wish I didn't miss you anymore." I choked out. "It-It would _hurt_ less..."

I sucked in a little breath, which did nothing, since it got stuck in my throat.

" _God_...Bucky I know what they _did to you_." I whispered.

" _I-I know what they did to you._ " I sobbed, pressing a hand to my mouth. "I read the file HYDRA has on you...I _saw_ what they did to you, darlin'."

The pain in my chest burned, and I gripped the dog tags tight, pressing them to my chest. "You _screamed_ for me."

"You were screaming for me after you forgot your _own name_..." The gravestone was growing colder and colder against my skin. "As they tore you apart _over_ and _over_ and _over_ -"

The sob growing in my chest finally came out, cutting off my words. It felt like forever before I could talk again. Close to 70 years after he left me, the pain was still raw and hot.

"I-I don't even know where you are." I sobbed. "You-You weren't al-always a-awake, so I have n-no idea where you are..."

"I meant it when I said I still missed you." I said. My voice was thick and muffled. "Ev-Even though you aren't you anymore...That-That's alright though, I-I'm not me anymore..." I forced a weak, tearful smile. Rain began to fall.

I blinked, and sucked in a breath. When I closed my eyes, I heard his raw, terrified screams as they shocked his brain, tied him down and shot him with drugs I'd never heard of.

"Bucky you _screamed for me_ ," I choked out again, slouching against the grave.

"Yes he did, _darlin'_."

I froze, my eyes snapping open and the rough, masculine voice chuckled.

"Heard the recordings myself." Not long after that I heard the metallic sound of a round being put the chamber. "First he screamed for _Anna Brightman_...Then _Annie_...It was _Glow_ for a few

years...Then _nothing_."

"Do you have _any idea_ how many kinds of _wrong_ it is that your brought a _gun_ here?" I asked, turning my head ever so slightly, still kneeling and holding the stone in front of me.

The man chuckled, and threw something in the grass. "Fine. I brought a knife too."

I clenched my jaw and began to take slow, deep breaths. My throat had been thick and gargly as I spoke to Bucky. If I was going to fight on his grave, it had to be fast, dirty and ruthless; I needed to breathe. I needed to _win_ the fight on his grave.

"I don't suppose we could walk out to the parking lot, and do this away from men who gave their lives to this country?" I asked, slowly moving to sit on my heels, keeping my back to this man. If he was going to stab me in the back, then I was going to die looking at one of the last pieces of Bucky I had left.

The man chuckled. "Ah, c'mon Anna. You know that's not how this works."

"Yeah." I sighed, cracking my neck. "I know."

I pushed my crouched legs up and threw my hands back in one swift movement. The modified-backflip sent my feet flying into the gut of the man behind me. He was sent back into a tree, and allowed me time to right myself.

The man ran at me, knife at the ready. I got two good hits to the face and took one to the ribs before I got his head and slammed it into the top of Bucky's stone. I grabbed his hair this time, and before I could deliver the knockout blow, the man grabbed my ankle and yanked my feet out from under me. As I went down, I kicked my other leg up and took him down with me. I wrenched his neck in the fall, and he howled in pain. I got to my feet and took a few steps back.

"You gonna leave now?" I asked him.

"You have any idea what the price on your head is?" My attacker said as he painfully stood up; one hand on the opposite shoulder. " _One million_."

I snorted. "In US dollars? That's _it_?"

He groaned, and that may as well have been the bell for round two.

"I'm worth at least a _billion_. Maybe two or three." I taunted, wiping blood off his lip.

I took more punches to the face this time, but I'm also pretty sure I cracked half his rib cage with my thighs. I was on his back, arms around his neck in a choke hold and legs squeezing his torso. He was gasping desperately for air.

"Normally, I'd let you live for this. If I _killed_ everyone who tried to kill me, I'd have no friends." I said lowly in his ear as he clawed desperately at my wrists; his blunt nails painfully peeled skin away, but I barely blinked. "But you made me do this in front of _him_."

My attacker sucked in one more desperate breath before I felt something impale my side. My right leg went slack from the pain, and my left couldn't hold him on it's own. He raised his thick arms and threw me off his back, not before twisting the knife in my flesh.

I was in the air until something hit the back of my head. I inhaled a sharp gasp of pain as I slid down the stone. The pointed corner hit my skull and everything became hazy and slower.

I could feel the ridges of the carved lettering on the bloody skin of my head as I slowly slumped down the pale gray stone.

I blindly felt for the wound on my side, and felt the cold hilt of the knife sticking from my side. I winced as I pulled the blade from the stiff scar tissue, and let it fall to the grass. He stabbed me in the same place Loki stabbed me two years ago. I pressed my hands over the wound, letting them become covered in blood. It was hard to keep pressure on it; my side and hands were slick with blood and rain.

I looked back at the hit man. He was several yards away from me, smiling as he turned towards me. He was blurry and hazy. When he spoke, his words were muffled and slurred under the ringing that began in my ears. I think he was looking for the gun he threw aside earlier.

 _You better be waitin' for me up there Bucky, with open arms and a kiss._

Two shots in quick succession made me wince. After assessing that I hadn't been shot, I looked back at the hit man; someone had shot clean through his knees. I watched the blood, tissue and shattered bone spray to the ground in my slow motion haze. The bullets embedded themselves in the grass. His head was thrown back in a scream of pain.

A man was revealed behind him as he fell. He had the gun out in one hand. It slowly lowered as my attacker fell to his knees, or, what was left of them.

The bloody, punctured joints had barely touched the grass before the man behind him walked forward (tucking the gun in his waistband). Two hands came to his face, and jerked his neck sharply to the right. The screaming stopped, and the hit man fell to the grass with his head and a unnatural angle.

The second man stepped over the dead one without a second glance. I only had the blurry light of the moon to make of his face, shadowed by hair and a baseball cap. I could feel my heart beating faster, and I blindly felt for the knife I'd yanked from my side.

By the time my fingers brushed the metal blade, the second man was already next to me. His strong fingers beat mine to the knife. He squatted next to me, bloody knife in one hand, the other over my head on the grave.

Lightning cracked and illuminated his face for half a second.

From my place bloody on the grass, my lips pulled into a shaky smile.

"I knew it." I whispered, shakily reaching up to put a bloody hand on his cheek. It was rough and unshaven, and I could feel the long, stringy wet hair on the back of my hand. "I _knew_ you'd come." I spoke again, tears spilling out of my eyes as my voice choked up.

The shadowed face twitched under my palm. Before a rough, quiet, whisper came, just barely louder than the rain.

"Who am I?"

Thunder broke through the sky and lightning soon followed, illuminating the sky, and his face, again.

"My _guardian angel_...come to take me to Heaven."

My bloody hand slowly slipped from his rain-slick cheek as consciousness finally eluded me.

* * *

 **Ok, a few explanations.**

 **I had a friend read this over, and he said that after Anna found out S.H.I.E.L.D. was gone, she didn't really react the way a person who spent their whole life building S.H.I.E.L.D. (with HYDRA in it) would.**

 **I kind of agree; I _really_ struggled with that part. This whole chapter, actually. I decided to post it like this. If I didn't, it would end up way over-worked and more crappy.**

 **Back to what y buddy said: I think it's part of Anna's character that she didn't breakdown** **. Ellie and Ollie were there, and Anna has spent 70-ish years putting everyone's problems ahead of hers, because, in her mind, her problems can wait; its not like she's getting any older.**

 **If you were expecting a breakdown by Anna, you'll have to wait a few chapters.**

 **Well, a long sorta-crappy explanation.**

 **Next update: Friday**

 **I hope you enjoyed the chapter!**

 **~Christianne**


	14. Chapter 14: What do You Need Me to Be?

Anna POV

My phone was buzzing.

I groaned, and fumbled for the slim silver object with my eyes closed. When I finally found it, my arm was stretched out to the coffee table, which meant I was on the couch. I smacked it to my face.

"Hello?" I groaned, rubbing my eyes with my free hand.

" _Annie! Oh thank God you answered! I've been calling you all night! I went to Bucky's grave, and I saw blood-"_

"I'm fine, Steve." I sighed, staring blankly at my ceiling. "Ellie's up state at Xavier's...Ollie, er, Agent Maxwell, is with her...Charlie needs to look at that curly head of his...Ollie doesn't do well with stressful situations."

I'd already told Steve all about Charlie's school upstate. Charlie wasn't too happy, but Steve supported the idea so much, he actually got an _invitation_ to the Westchester mansion.

" _She called me already._ " Steve said, his voice growing more and more anxious with every word. " _Look, Annie we have to talk about Buck-"_

"I know, Steve." I cut him off. "HYDRA found Ellie and me in Nepal, killed the monks there and tried to kill Agent Maxwell...Stole a hard drive off one of them..."

Silence.

"Steve, where is he?" I asked in a half-broken whisper, one elbow on my knee, hand pressed to my forehead.

" _He...I saw him in DC...He shot Fury."_

I shot up on the couch. "Fury is _dead_?" I half-yelled.

" _No!_ " Steve said quickly. " _No, he's not dead...Not many people know, and he doesn't want a lot of people to know._ "

After 'No!' I stopped listening.

When Ellie, Ollie and I landed in Quantico, I wore the same black-on-black outfit to his grave that I put on two days before in Nepal. Now, I was stripped down to my bra on top, but still wearing my pants, socks and boots. My lower torso was wrapped up tightly in an Ace bandage.

"Steve, I have to go." I said in a distracted voice, then hung up on the yelling soldier. I tossed my phone back on the coffee table and swung my legs over the side of the couch, kicking the blanket away; my comforter had been dragged off my bed and slung over me.

My face screwed up, and I pressed one hand to my side as I moved, the other pressed to the gash on the back of my head. I noticed my hair was _curly_ again, much to my dismay.

It was still dark out; I must not have been out long. I toed off my boots, and dragged the bottoms of my feet over my rug until the thick socks (necessary items in Nepal) were off my feet. Once they were off, my bare feet hit an array of things on my floor.

Several suture kits, open and torn up. Torn _Quick-Clot_ packaging, and some stray grayish grains. An open and blood smeared copy of Tactical Field Medicine, from the 60s; it was actually worth quite a bit (well, it was worth something before it became blood smeared). The remains of my bloody t-shirt and jacket. A paring knife from my kitchen, rubbing alcohol and a decent size pile of ruined, bloody white towels from my bathroom. A mangled wire coat hanger I don't remember owning and a lighter. I picked the coat hanger up and examined the end; the end with the black, thick, seared material over it.

I gave it a sniff and frowned; burnt flesh. Whoever stripped me down had _crudely_ _cauterized my wound_.

Throwing the hanger down, I got up—hand still pressed to my side—and made my way to my kitchen. I needed something to drink, so _that_ problem would have to wait it's goddamned turn. I reached over the sink and flicked on the light. I left the main overhead ones off. After HYDRA found the Nepal base, I wasn't taking chances; my exterior wall was almost entirely glass. Despite what S.H.I.E.L.D. said, there was no such thing as bullet proof glass, only bullet _resistant_ glass.

"Jeez...Must'a been serrated." I groaned as I opened up my fridge, rubbing my stab wound.

I pulled out a bottle of beer. Natasha must have been in Ireland, and must have stopped by while I was gone; there was a case of my favorite beer in my fridge. It was from a tiny pub under a 100-year-old building. It smelled bad, the service was crap, and even Clint (who I've seen drink warm, flat homemade beer in India) didn't like what was on tap.

I made a mental note to thank her as I grabbed a knife from the block. I didn't feel like looking for my bottle opener, and opened it with knife like Logan showed me in Laos.

I put the knife down, took a long pull from the beer, then pressed the cold bottle to my side. I leaned on the counters and took a deep breath. My free hand reached up to my neck to fumble with the chain of his dog tags.

I frowned when I didn't feel them. I put down my beer and looked at my torso; Ace bandage, black bra...no dog tags. I was about to rush back to the couch, thinking that maybe my mysterious sorta-doctor took them off for me, when I heard the sound of metal clinking on my granite counter top.

Snapping my gaze to my island, I saw something slid towards me. It came to a stop towards the edge; the light over the sink let me see what they were.

A battered and bent up pair of dog tags. They had some rust colored splatters; my blood.

I slowly looked away from the dog tags to the darkened corner of my kitchen. I could just make out someone standing there, back pressed against the wall.

"You're the one who fixed me up?" I asked, my voice even and not the slightest bit scared. They were on my turf; I had a weapon in easy reach every where in my apartment.

The person didn't answer.

"I'll take that as a yes..." I chuckled once, taking the dog tags and looping them around my neck, I winced when I lifted my arm on my wounded side. " _Thank you_."

"I tried to save you." It was a simple, self-deprecating statement spoken in a quiet, rough whisper. Not rough, like it was they're normal voice. It sounded rough from _disuse_ more than anything else. At least I knew something about this person; they're male.

My brows raised. "Pretty sure you _did_ save me."

In the dark of the corner, I saw his hands go his head. He mumbled something I couldn't hear.

"What?" I asked, laughing slightly. " _It's not enough?_ That what you said?"

More mumbling.

I smiled a little. "Look, I don't know what your philosophy is, but you saved me. That _is_ enough-"

" _IT'S NOT ENOUGH!"_

His yell cut me off, and made me jump; a hand went to the handle of the knife I used to open my beer. As he yelled, he came out of the dark corner and slammed his hand on the counter. There was a metallic clink, and a crack split through the gray counter top.

All I could do is stare.

I'd spent years trying to memorize that face. His strong jaw, currently under several days worth of stubble. The sharp cheekbones seemed sharper from his slightly sunken cheeks. Dark bruises ringed his eyes as if he hadn't slept in days. Thick, stringy black hair stuck out from the ratty baseball cap and brushed his cheeks. All skin I saw was covered with a grime of dirt and sweat.

I remember reaching up to touch his cheek at Arlington; I thought I was hallucinating, or that God sent him down to take me to Heaven. I could see a rust colored smear on his left cheek, under his slight beard.

" _Oh my God_." I breathed out, barely even a whisper. I slowly dropped the knife back onto the counter, and raised both my hands to cover my mouth and nose. Just seeing him, though he barely looked like the man I knew, made me want to cry. He reminded me of when I used to cry all the time, in front of anybody.

His jaw was clenched, his cheek twitching. Slowly, he looked down at his left hand, the one that had hit my counter. He slowly lifted it up, and his brows pulled together as he saw the cracks that came from where his gloved fist landed.

I let out a happy little sob, making him look at me again. "You're _here_."

His eyes were still the same blue. The same _amazing_ shade of cerulean blue, like the sky right after a storm. Instead of being bright, full of life and charm, they were dull. The spark behind the blue was gone, and replaced with an intelligent flicker and an animalistic alertness.

"You're-You're _alive_." I choke out, laughing again. " _Bucky_ -"

" _Don't call me that._ " He growled, raising both his hands to his face. He rubbed his eyes, then pressed both tightly to his temples, pushing the baseball cap to the floor. "Don't-Don't call me that. Don't call me that..." He mumbled, his face screwing up.

He stumbled a few steps back to lean on the breakfast bar that separated my kitchen from the living room. "Don't call me that...Don't call me that...Don't...Don't call me that." He mumbled over and over, like he was chanting.

His left arm jerked suddenly, and he growled again. His right hand formed a fist, and hit his bicep several times. "Damnit... _Stop it._ " He hissed, apparently at his own arm. Clutching his left bicep, he let his head loll back. I could see his Adam's apple bob when he swallowed.

I could see angry red splotches on his temples from where he pressed too hard into his own skull.

He ended up on the floor, back pressed tightly to the beam next to the breakfast bar, and turned himself so he was half-hidden under it. It was a sight that in a different context I would have laughed at; a large man trying to curl himself small enough to fit under the breakfast bar. I saw him press his hands to his head again.

Slowly, I moved to sit a few feet from him on the floor. I'd been taking deep breaths to keep myself from running to him and pulling him into a tight hug, which

He was breathing heavily, hands pressed to his head again as he slowly rocked back and fourth. "It-It _hurts_." His rough voice cracked, and he screwed his face up briefly.

"What hurts?" I asked softly. I was using the same voice I used with shell-shocked soldiers. Then again, I _was_ talking to a shell-shocked soldier.

"All of it." He ground out through his teeth. He balled his fist up and almost snarled as he hit his temple, _hard_.

"It-" He slammed his fist to his head again. "-won't-" Another hit. " _Stop!_ " I lunged forward and grabbed his arm, trying to stop him from hitting his already bruised and slightly cut temple.

"Hey!" I half-yelled at him, making him flinch before looking up at me. I could feel the hard, smooth metal under his jacket.

"Hitting won't make it stop." I said slowly, letting his arm go. He balled it up into a fist again, and hit his own head. The thin, cheap black glove he wore did nothing to cushion the blow. The metal edges were cutting his temple; the tiny abrasions weren't quite breaking the skin, but if he kept it up they would.

" _Hey!_ " I said again, louder. He looked up at me with a blank face.

"You need to listen to me _._ " I said, a little more commanding this time. I'd gripped his arm again, and was flung back into the island after the words passed my lips. I couldn't hold in the little cry; the deep gash on the back of my head from hitting the corner of his stone hit the cabinet.

A flesh hand grabbed my throat and yanked me back. The distance between the breakfast bar and the island was only about three feet, but I was sore and wounded; being yanked and pushed around hurt more than it normally would. I had both my hands around his wrist, and watched the gloved fist shake, half wound back to hit me in the face. I watched his face; his scared, contorted, angry face, and closed my eyes.

Not half a second later I was flung back. I took one deep gasp, then more controlled breaths until I could breathe without pain; he hadn't been holding my throat that hard.

His chest was rising and falling rapidly, and he was mumbling incoherently.

Ever so gently, I put my hand on his knee.

" _Please_ listen to me."

I didn't say another word until he nodded, ever-so-slightly.

"I know it hurts," I told him slowly. "But replacing pain with _different_ pain _is not ok_ , understand?"

One nod.

"Good." I praised softly, letting his knee go and sitting back on the floor.

"Do...Do you know me?" I asked softly. I inhaled sharply after the words left my mouth and waited for him to answer.

"Annabelle Jane Brightman. Born April fourth, 1919. You were Dr. Erskine's assistant and went overseas with Howard Stark." He spoke flatly, staring at the wall. "You died in 1951."

" _Clearly_ a lie." I cracked a smile, but it fell quickly. "Do...Do you remember that?"

"I saw the-the museum exhibit." He said after shaking his head no.

"Are you real?" He asked after taking a breath.

My brows furrowed in confusion. "Am I real?" I repeated.

"Are you real? How do I know you're real?" He repeated quickly. He had his hands to his head again. "How-How do I know that you're not one-one of the things they put in my head? How do I know that you're not gonna take me back and-and wipe all of this away?"

I watched as he began growling out words again; hopping between Russian, Japanese and English abruptly.

"Give me your hand." I said simply, holding my own out. He looked between me and my hand, before slowly turning to put his right hand in mine. I gently grasped his wrist with my other hand, and moved forward so I could press his palm to my chest, over my left breast.

"Can you feel my heart beating?" I asked him, holding his hand to my chest. I didn't want him to let go, and I also _needed_ to touch him for a while.

I licked my lips. " _Can you feel my heart beating?_ " I asked in soft, flawless Russian when he didn't answer me.

Staring at his hand, he nodded; his other hand was forming a fist at his side.

" _Can you feel how it's speeding up?_ "

He nodded again.

" _You know HYDRA._ " I stated. " _If this is created by them, would my heart be beating faster?_ "

" _Why is it beating faster?_ " He asked in Russian. " _Fear?_ " He tried to take his hand back.

I scoffed quietly, shaking my head. I lapsed back into English. "I've seen a lot of scary things...You're not one of them." He clenched his jaw, and refused to look at me. "My heart's beating faster because _you're here_."

" _Fear._ " He said again, still in Russian.

" _No_." I insisted. " _Love_."

He stared at his hand on my chest, the steady _thump-thump_ of my heart under his palm. He removed his hand from my chest and grabbed my shoulder to yank me towards him. I was on my knees, he still on his butt, making me taller than him on the floor. He buried his face into my neck as his arms wound around me, under my arms and around my back. One held the back of my neck and the other's fingers dug into my hip. It was his left, metal arm behind my neck; the angled, edged plates of his metal fingers dug into my neck through the rough black fabric glove, but I didn't say a word.

I gently put a hand on the back of his head while he took shaky, harsh breaths against my shoulder. My other arm rested gently over his shoulders.

"Shh...It's alright." I whispered to him, stroking the greasy, dirty hair at the back of his head. "I'm here...I'm _real_."

"You're real." He repeated. "You're real. You're real. You're real. You're real..." I closed my eyes as he chanted that phrase over and over. His grip tightened to a bruising force, but I still said nothing.

"It's alright," I said again, cautiously pressing a kiss to his greasy hair. "It...It's all going to be alright."

 _I've got you, Bucky, and I'm not letting go any time soon._

* * *

I was sitting on a footstool by the side of my couch, with a soldering iron and metal pick in my hands. I had the coffee table pulled towards me, with my tools in easy reach. I also needed a place to put the metal plates while I worked on his arm.

His jacket and two shirts were in a pile on the floor. I saw several healing cuts and deep bruises on his body, but said nothing about them. It took several hours to convince him to let me fix his arm; I don't know how I'd get him to let me look at the flesh parts of his body.

"So..." I trailed of. "What do I call you?"

No response.

"You didn't like it when I called you Bu-...You didn't like what I called you before." I stated, pausing to grab some pliers to wind a wire back in place before I soldered it. "What do you want me to call you?"

"James Buchanan Barnes." He mumbled quietly. I still hadn't gotten used to his rough, low voice. He didn't really let me; he didn't say a whole lot.

"Yeah...Yeah, that's your full name." I sighed, still looking at his arm. "You _hated_ to be called _James_."

"Why?"

The simple question made me look up from his arm and sit back on the stool. "You know, I don't really know." I admitted, smiling a little. He just gave me a blank look. Still smiling, I went back to work on his arm.

"James, then. I'll call you James." I amended with a nod. "You gotta cut me some slack if I don't, though." I added. "I...I've known you as... _him_ , for a long time. Old habits die hard."

He didn't say anything. I looked up at him. "Ok?" I asked, finally getting a nod. "Good."

After 45 more minutes of silence, he spoke.

"You're doin' it wrong."

I immediately pulled my hands back. "What am I doing wrong?"

Saying nothing, James looked down at his left top panels had been removed, and the circuit boards and wires could be seen. "It's suposta hurt." He mumbled, furrowing his dark eyebrows.

After I thought for a second, I moved towards his arm again. "I'm gonna try something...Brace yourself, alright?" I got a simple nod.

I attached a few wires up by his shoulder, and went to some at the elbow joint. I soldered the wire, watching his face. He didn't even flinch. "That's how it's suposta feel." He mumbled again.

I took an amp meter from my tool box and glanced back up at him. "Just one more time, ok?"

No response.

I touched the amp meter to the soldered wire and connected the circuit again. I let out a shaky exhale and threw the amp meter back down to the toolbox.

The amount of current that zapped through him was enough to knock me on my ass, which is saying something, because I can be continuously tazed with a modified, military grade stun gun and still keep fighting.

Biting my cheek hard, I shook my head. "No. No, that's not how it's supposed to feel." I told him, detaching the wires by his shoulder again. I sat back and began explaining.

"This is attached to your nerves and muscles," I told him, tapping the metal with a small screwdriver. "Nerves and muscles work with electrical impulses. These wires by your shoulder accept those impulses, and send the ones from your arm to your body."

His brows furrowed, a deep crease forming between them.

"You said it's supposed to hurt...It doesn't have to, alright? They could have disconnected the wires." _I can cry later,_ I was chanting that in my head over and over. _I can cry later. I can cry later._

When the crease didn't get any smaller, I shook my head and kept working on his arm. When he didn't say anything, I glanced up at him. He looked confused.

"They hurt you on purpose." I explained softy. He grunted in response.

I glanced up and saw James staring at me. Well, more specifically, the dog tags that I'd returned to around my neck. I paused, and tucked them into my t-shirt.

* * *

"There." I said triumphantly, smiling up at James from the stool. "All done."

Slowly, he lifted his arm from the arm of the couch, and examined his palm. James closed his fist, and seemed to flex his arm, making the metal plates shift and clink together quietly. He began to yank his vaiouse shirts on, and I pushed my tools back in the box I grabbed them from.

As he was putting the glove back on, I sat across from him at the coffee table.

"What do you need?" I asked him, leaning forward to put my elbows on my knees. James just looked up at me, brows slightly furrowed.

"What?" He finally got out.

"What do you need?" I asked again. When he just blinked, I sighed. "You need something, James. You do. I'm asking you, _what do you need?_ "

"HYDRA." He said quietly. "I need HYDRA. I-I need it... _gone_."

I nodded once. "Ok...Now, what do you need me to be?"

"I need you to stay out of it." He growled right away.

"Why?" I asked him, a simple question that made him press his flesh hand to his head. I grabbed his wrist, and he let my yank it down.

I tried Russian this time. " _Why?_ "

" _Because I have to!_ " He yelled at me, jerking his wrist from my grasp. He stood up, and pressed both fists to his temples as he paced, babbling in Russian. " _I-I have to keep you out of it. I have to. I have to. I have to._ "

" _Sit._ _ **Down.**_ " I ordered him. I liked Russian; everything sounded like an angry order.

Obediently, James sat back down on the sofa, his hands shaking.

"You _are not_ leaving me behind. You need someone, James." I told him, and got a blank look.

"When was the last time you ate something?" I asked him, raising an eyebrow at his blank face. "Or had a shower?"

His eyes were focused on his hands.

"I can _try_ to be the Anna from the 1940s." I offered, making his cheek twitch "You know, worry about you, make bad stew and cry a lot...She-She's not really here anymore, but I can _try_ to be her..." I trailed off, and picked up when his face relaxed slightly a few seconds later.

"...Or, I can be a _soldier_."

He looked abruptly to the side, not meeting my eyes.

"I can be _right next to you_ the whole time. I've brought HYDRA to it's knees once, I'll do it again, with or without out you. Which is it?"

When he didn't answer me, I grabbed both his hands; flesh and metal, the latter of which was yanked from my grip. I let his warm flesh hand go, and used both to grab his metal hand. I leaned closer, so close he couldn't get up or yank his hand away.

He looked at me with wide eyes, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He didn't look scared, per say. That is the expression of someone who _doesn't know what to do_. It's more terrifying that it sounds, _I know_.

"James, _what do you need me to be?_ "

* * *

 **Well...What do you think about the long awaited reunion between Bucky ("James") and Anna?**

 **I wrote a bunch of different ones, but I liked this one. ;)**

 **Also, I kinda-sorta fixed the link to my site for my stories...It's on my bio, take a look.**

 **Next update: Monday**

 **~Christianne**


	15. Chapter 15:You Wanna Undo What They Did?

**Well, here's the next chapter!**

 **A few quick things before you read. I just wanna clear a few things up; there have a few questions in the reviews I'm getting.**

 **I wanted to clear up something from the last chapter.** **"James" and Anna sort of embraced on her kitchen floor in Ch.14 and it probably wasn't to clear, but that wasn't really like a "you are special to me" hug, it was more of a "you're a real living person that's never hurt me" embrace. In my opinion, at this point I don't even think that "James" would really understand or care about the emotional meaning behind a hug, so...yeah...Maybe you didn't need that, but I thought I'd put in the explanation anyway.**

 **Oh, and when "James" catches up to Anna in the cemetery, it's supposed to be the same night/day shown at the end of CA:TWS with him in the Smithsonian.**

 **I sorta threw the last little bit in, so be kind to me my cupcakes!**

 **Yup. That's about it.**

 **Oh, and the next chapter will be up on Thursday.**

 **~Christianne**

 **PS~ Did I mention in the last chapter I sorta - kinda fixed how you get to my website?**

* * *

Anna POV

 **1944**

 _"Ow!"_

 _"Get off me!"_

 _"This is all your fault!"_

 _"My fault? Who was supposed to drive the thing, again?"_

 _"Would you all just_ _ **shut up**_ _?"_

 _"Yeah, ringing in my ears is bad enough already without all your_ _ **yammering**_ _."_

 _"Ow! Will you_ _ **stop**_ _hitting me with your elbow?"_

 _"Sorry, I guess I didn't see it there."_

 _I poked my head out of my apartment door and laughed once. "What happened to you guys?" I asked, leaning on the doorjam. The Howling Commandos were dirty from head to toe_

 _"We were on our way to the airstrip_ _ **after**_ _the mission," Gabe said, leaning on the wall as he favored his left leg. "And on that drive,_ _ **the driver**_ _-"_

 _"Hey, it was dark! I didn't see the corner!" Dum-Dum cut off Gabe's sarcastic statement, holding his shoulder._

 _"How can you not see the corner?" Steve put in, rolling his neck on his shoulders, making a series of loud cracks. "There were some pretty big yellow signs!"_

 _Bucky, who had been hanging towards the back of the group, walked past Jim, who had the remains of a bloody nose, groaned._

 _"Hey Glow." He mumbled when he got to me, pressing a kiss to my cheek before walking into our apartment. I followed him, wiping my cheek off. He was sweaty and muddy._

 _"So Dum-Dum turned the truck over?" I asked, helping him take the holster off from around his shoulders._

 _"Yeah," he hissed as he moved his shoulder. "Truck was fine...Banged us up pretty bad though."_

 _"Mm-hm." I mumbled as I unbuttoned his jacket like I usually did when he got back. Normally, he was playing with my hair or had his hands on my hips when I did this, now, his hands were at his side. "Hurt your shoulder?"_

 _"My leg too...It's all Steve's fault." Bucky muttered as I helped him out of his jacket and he toed out of his boots. I held the jacket away from my dress; it was_ _ **filthy**_ _._

 _"Steve's?" I asked, letting it drop to the floor._

 _"Yeah...Heavy bastard_ _ **landed on me**_ _." He complained, reaching to hold his left arm under his elbow._

 _I giggled softly, reaching up to his face to wipe a darker smear of dirt from over his eyebrow. Bucky leaned into my hand and made a sound between a sigh and a groan. "'m tired." He mumbled, then turned towards the bed._

 _"Oh no 'yuh don't!" I said, grabbing his sweaty undershirt and yanking him towards the bathroom. "Those are pristine sheets mister. You're gonna have to clean up before you get anywhere near it!"_

 _"Aaaa-nnieeeee..." Bucky groaned like a child, letting me tow him to the bathroom. "I bet'cha Steve's already with bed...He didn't have to shower when he's been up for 30 hours."_

 _"Well, then maybe you should go climb in bed with him," I bit back smartly, putting both hands on his back._

 _"Annie I can barely stand up straight and lift my arm over my head!" Bucky told me as he stood in the bathroom. "How do you expect me to-What are you doing?"_

 _As he'd been talking, I'd hike my dress up in the back to unhook my garterbelt. I slid it down, taking my stockings with it, and kicked my shoes off. By the time he'd asked me what I was doing, I'd started at the row of buttons in the front of my dress. I stopped, and raised a brow._

 _"What's it_ _ **look like**_ _I'm doing?" I asked, pausing to take my earrings off and put them in the tea cup we had over our sink._

 _"It looks like you're gettin' ready to do that thing I told you about last week." He said; that half-smirk with just a touch of smugness._

 _I'd taken my dress off my shoulders, and pushed it down my my waist. I gasped at him, and gave his injured shoulder a hard poke. He yelped in pain, but it soon became a laugh. I shimmied out of my dress, leaving me in my slip and underwear, and helped him out of his undershirt. I helped him get his dog tags the right way, and briefly rested a hand on his chest._

 _"Are you alright?" I asked him genuinely._

 _Since he couldn't put his hands anywhere on me, he leaned down and pressed his forehead mine. "I'm just fine, darlin'." Bucky promised me._

 _I leaned up to press a brief kiss to his lips. After I pulled back, I started on the button of his pants. I undid it for him, and started the water. I glanced at Bucky, and snapped my gaze back to the knob of the sink. "Pull'em up Bucky! Not gonna do that when you're hurt!"_

 _I heard him chuckle, then lean near me on the tub. He rested his face in my hair, and sighed. "I missed you."_

 _"You still have to shower before you get in bed." I sighed in response. He groaned and leaned up from my shoulder._

 _Smiling, I got under the water, and steadied his shoulder as he did the same. Bucky closed his eyes and sighed once he was under the shower head. I pulled the curtain closed, leaving us close together, under the shower, in our wet underwear. The water ran brown for a few second, dragging dirt from his hair and skin to the drain._

 _I let him stand there, eyes closed, as I cleaned his hair out. A few times I stopped, pulling my fingers from his sudsy hair to pat his cheeks just to make sure he was still awake. He'd just open his eyes, barely, and smile._

 _"Head back," I said, running my fingers through his thick locks under the stream of water. He did, and when I was done he grabbed my waist with his good arm and pulled me to his chest. Bucky held me close enough so his injured arm was pressed between our chests. He used his free hand to move my wet hair from my neck, and he pressed a kiss to my shoulder._

 _Bucky's kisses always felt searing and hot, but under the hot water when my skin was already hot, they were twice as hot. I wrapped one arm around his neck, combing through his wet hair, the other helped support his arm. I heard him sigh when I took some of the weight from him._

 _"Steve dislocated my shoulder." Bucky mumbled into my skin._

 _"Mm-hm." I sighed, running my fingers through his hair slowly as hot water beat down on us._

 _"Jim and Jacques popped it back in on the side of the road." He mumbled again._

 _"Mm-hm." I sighed again, ignoring when Bucky pulled the thin strap of my slip over my shoulder._

 _"It really hurt."_

 _"Mm-hm."_

 _For a long, long time, we stood holding each other under the water. Every now and then, it was me who had to hold him together. It was a little rare that I had to, but when I did, I found it was best to let him mumble and hug me._

 _"I missed you." Bucky sighed._

 _My silk slip was clinging to my body, making it pretty hard to pull it down any further._

 _"Mm-hm." I mumbled. "I know...I missed you too."_

 _"Sure we can't-"_

 _"Mm-_ _ **mm**_ _." I cut him off, smiling._

 _His chest vibrated when he chuckled, and his hand pressed me closer to him. I rested my head against his, my forehead on his shoulder. My lips curled into a smile. "When you feel better." I said, making him smile against my shoulder._

 _There was a beat of silence._

 _"I feel better now," Bucky insisted softly, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. I giggled and tried to move away from his chest, but he held me tighter._

 _"Bucky!" I laughed loudly as he pressed sloppy kisses up the column of my throat and over my chin. His teeth occasionally grazed my skin because he couldn't stop smiling either. I moved my arm around his neck and got on my tip toes. I pressed a kiss to his lips, smiling when he broke to laugh._

 _We stood under the water, me laughing and Bucky kissing my neck, chest and face, until the water ran cold._

* * *

 **Present**

I knocked my my bathroom door.

"Hey...You alright in there?"

Silence.

I turned the water on in my magnificent shower and shut the door behind me when I left, leaving him to clean up. That was half an hour ago.

"C'mon James...Talk to me." I said, leaning my shoulder on the door.

He told me he needed a soldier, so that's what I was going to be. I needed to look out for my commanding officer, who wasn't really in the best state of mind to be left alone at this point.

"Open the door or I'm coming in." I threatened, hand on my hip. Five seconds later, I pushed the door in.

The sight inside made me stop walking.

He was just standing under the water, fully dressed, hands braced on the wall under the shower head, eyes closed, head lolled forward. Wordlessly, I shimmied out of my jeans. I opened the glass door and pushed his lower back, making him stand up. He did, still staring at the tiled wall. The water was running a gross brown color.

"How'd you get me home?" I asked as I pulled his soaked button up to the floor. Then reached to the hem of his t-shirt, and lifted it over his head. I turned in front of him, and unbuttoned his ratty jeans. The fell to the ground with a wet _slop_ sound. James didn't look away from the tile as he stood on one cuff, pulled his foot out and did the same with the other one. I smiled a little as I kicked them to the other wet clothes; at least how he got out of his pants was the same.

I squeezed soap into my palm. Shampoo wasn't going to cut it with what I saw in his hair.

"Stole a car." He mumbled, answering my question. "I-I know how to hotwire a car."

"Mm-hm." I said as I got more soap; it looked like he hadn't had a shower in a few _months_.

"That's real." I added a second later, but said nothing more. He didn't need me to be his Glow, he needed someone to take down HYDRA with him.

To take down HYDRA, he didn't need to know how Howard talked them through hotwiring a car in Germany over the radio while in London to catch up with some of the escapees from the compound the Commandos had just raided.

He said nothing as I gently pushed his head under the water, rinsing his long hair.

"This is a _waste of time_." He ground out, his hands balled up in fists at his side.

"No...No it isn't." I countered lazily, grabbing a washcloth from outside the bar over the door.

"You've...Give yourself 16 hours." I bargained. I scrubbed the soapy wash cloth over the back of his neck and rang it out. Gently, I traced the line of thick scarring where skin became metal. My fingers shook. I cleared my throat, picking up my train of thought again. "You need sleep and food."

"This is a waste of time." He repeated, with less conviction this time.

"Do it now, and you won't have to do it later." I said, smiling. He didn't protest after that.

"Just out of curiosity..." I trailed off, trying to get blood out of his rough fingers. "You do know how to clean yourself up, right?"

 _James_ just blinked, his dark brows furrowing. Ever so slightly, he nodded. "...Think so..." He said under his breath.

I rinsed my hair once, then got out of the shower. James started to follow me, but I put a hand on his chest. "You clean up your...lower half." I said, gesturing to his boxer-clad area and legs. "I'll get you some clothes."

I grabbed a towel, quickly drying off my arms and legs. I ran it through my hair a few times, frowning. I used special, expensive shampoo from Morocco that helped keep my hair straight. I didn't bother washing my own hair, and I certainly wasn't going to waste time straightening my hair now. I rung it out on my floor, and pulled it into a tight french braid. I shed my waterlogged tank top and undergarments, and went to my large closet. After pulling on a new bra and panties, I rewrapped my cauterized side, and dug around for comfortable clothes. I found a plain t-shirt and sweatpants.

I was about to pull the soft, worn sweats on, when I noticed the peeling symbol and lettering on the hip and down the leg. The S.H.I.E.L.D. eagle was a faded gray against the black fleece, and _**S.H.I.E.L.D.**_ down the leg.

I clutched the old training pants to my chest, and leaned on the drawers behind me. I closed my eyes, and took some deep breaths. The crushing pain that gripped my heart all the time only tightened when I found out S.H.I.E.L.D. fell.

S.H.I.E.L.D. was my _home_.

It wasn't just _my_ home. It was a home to _every agent_.

Some, like Maria, escaped to S.H.I.E.L.D.

When I recruited Maria in 2000, when she was 18. It was, and still is to this day, my only recruitment in an ER. Kara was taking a few months to herself and working as a trauma nurse in Iowa. She called me down there, and told me about the dark haired 18 year old who was getting her face stitched up; she was looking blankly ahead, not looking at the needle going in and out of her cheek. She was watching a man and a young girl through the glass; narrowing her eyes when he put his hand tightly on her shoulder.

Her file read a lot like mine when I was (actually) her age. Lots of broken ribs, multiple sprained wrists and a fractured cheekbone or eye socket. Kara had seen her six times in four months, and she hated the Social Services man they had on staff. I went and sat next to her, crossing my legs as I tapped on my knee.

"Kick him in the balls." I said, smiling slightly, making her look at me. "Best defensive move in the book. Works if you're facing your attacker, or if you're back is to them." Maria just nodded at me, stretching and flexing the fingers of her hand tightly wrapped in gauze. The man came in, shoving the smaller girl, who looked a lot like Maria, with him. She looked about four, and when she saw Maria, ran to her. Maria put a protective hand on her back as the man got closer. I saw the look of strong defiance glinting with fear in Maria's eyes, and grabbed the back of the man's neck. Six moves later, he was on his back, groaning in pain. I gave Maria my card, and got a call from her six days later.

The little girl was her five-year-old half-sister Kelly. She was in college now. I went with Maria to her high school graduation, and pulled strings at Stanford to get her one of the really nice dorms. Maria visited her when ever she could, and didn't tell Kelly about the three agents in the area. Every high level S.H.I.E.L.D. operative with close family ties had a few protective agents; usually newbies or older ones ready for retirement in a few years.

For TJ, it was both Hell _and_ home.

His whole life, he's heard about his great-great uncle, his great-grandmother's brother, and his grandfather's heroic adventures and was always expected to live up to the Barnes name. See, TJ stood for Triple J, which stood for James III; James the Third.

He went through the S.H.I.E.L.D. Science Academy, and left instead of going to graduation and getting an assignment like everyone else. I went to see him, and he told me his mother was sick. Next time I saw him, he living happily in California, having graduated summa cum laude from the University of Michigan and starting graduate school. TJ, however reluctant, went to lunch with me and blurted out he wanted to become an agent.

Everyone was so excited to have a Barnes in the agency again. They were expecting his grandfather; tall and broad shouldered with a charming smile that literally charmed panties off some women and could punch a man's lights out. Instead, they got a gangly, hunched over pacifist who could barely say six words to a woman. Honestly, he was more like Steve than Bucky. Everyone was disappointed, and made sure TJ knew it. He worked twice as hard as anyone in the tech department and got half the respect.

He told me that if he didn't feel so much pride and generally happiness when they did the _slightest_ thing to improve somebody's life, he would have signed off a long time ago. That's one thing that made him a good agent; he was in S.H.I.E.L.D. to _help people_. It's also what makes him a Barnes.

When Clint and Natasha first came to S.H.I.E.L.D., people called them my strays; stragglers who weren't on our side that I brought back. For Clint, he was _coming home_ after being a archer-for-hire for a few years. Natasha, or _Natalia_ , was given her first home.

 _Their home_ was _gone_.

 _ **My**_ _home_ was _gone_.

I took a shaky breath. "Hold it together, Brightman." I said to myself. After pinching my bare leg pretty hard, I found some plain sweats and pulled those on.

When Steve still lived here, he had my guest room. I hadn't bothered to clean out the dresser, and was glad I hadn't now. Briefly, I smiled; _I was going through Captain America's underwear drawer_. I found a pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt. A t-shirt was my first grab, but thought the long sleeves would work better. I dropped them in front of the door, and knocked twice.

Leaving him to change, I went to the kitchen. I threw my, now flat, beer in the trash, and grabbed two cans from the cupboard and milk and cheese from the fridge. Five minutes later, tomato soup was warming in a pot and I was making grilled cheese sandwiches. I poured a bowl of soup and slid the sandwich to a plate.

"Hey Jimmy!" I yelled. "Food's read—Oh." I cut myself off. James was just standing in the hallway to the living room. His hair was still wet and hung around his face. "You should announce yourself." I sighed, putting the plate and bowl on the breakfast bar.

"It's not much, but I don't know what you've been eating...Don't wanna make you throw up by feedin' you sumthin' too rich." I sighed, getting a similar meal for myself.

Slowly, James came to the breakfast bar. He hesitated before sitting on the stool. He reached for the spoon, and metal clacked against metal. He abruptly dropped the spoon and shoved his left arm out of sight, taking the spoon in his right hand.

"I can't hurt you." He said suddenly, making me look over my shoulder. " I-I can't _make myself_ hurt you."

"Really?" I asked casually, sliding my own grilled cheese onto a plate.

"I _tried_..." James said quietly. "I could have killed you."

I shrugged. I'd put my own soup in a mug, and took a drink. "I'm not easy to kill."

"I could have let you bleed out." James insisted, looking at me with those familiar, and drastically altered eyes."I could have rung your neck when I had my hand on your throat. I could have hit you until your skull cracked. I could have jammed a screwdriver through your neck, pressed the soldering iron to your wrists and you suffer and bleed. I could have slammed you against the wall. I could have drowned you in the shower."

I just blinked at me. "Yeah," I confirmed, nodding once. "But you just said you can't hurt me."

He didn't say anything else. He just looked at his untouched food. James cautiously picked up the sandwich and took a bite. He chewed and swallowed slowly, then wolfed the rest down like a man starving. Instead of using the spoon, he lifted the bowl up with both hands and drank right from it.

"Feel better?" I asked, smiling; he had red tomato soup dripping down his chin. Instead of smiling back, he just nodded.

I slid my untouched sandwich onto his plate. He looked at me briefly, then grabbed it. He tore it in half, and held half out to me. I smiled, and grabbed it from him. I'd taken one bite in the time I took him to scarf it all down.

I smiled again and handed him the rest of my sandwich.

Without hesitating, he grabbed it.

* * *

Omniscient POV

Anna had told James to sleep. She turned down the soft, downy duvet of her guest room, then went to her own bed. James laid down in the bed, like he knew he was supposed to, for about 15 minutes. After that, he took the Glock 17 Anna gave him out from under his pillow and went to the living room; the bed was too _soft_.

He sat on the floor, leaning his back on the sofa. The carpet was just enough to make the hardwood tolerable, and James saw himself sitting there for a long time. His knees were up, forearms resting on them with the gun in his hand.

James watched the door for a few hours, and his eyes grew heavy.

If he was going on a longer mission, they pumped him full of drugs to keep him alert and focused. He'd hear the people administering them warn him about the crash he'd feel when they wore off, but he never experience that. He'd complete his mission and be wiped. That'd knock him out for a few hours, during which he'd be detoxed. They'd wake him up by smacking him around a little, then do a series of tests to see if he was in the same state of mind he was in when they got him; they had to return him the same way they got him. After that, he'd be wrestled back into the tiny, cold metal prison before it was flash frozen and he was put back in storage. A few years later, the process was repeated.

Anna heard James mumbling in various languages; he'd been saying everything he _knew_ was real. _That_ was real, and Anna heard it. She made some comment about him being treated like a rental car, which James didn't react to. He wasn't sure he understood it.

"Hey."

He lurched up, grabbing the throat that spoke with his metal hand, the flesh one pressed the gun to the temple of the person. Anna let out a grunt, and grabbed the gun with both hands, jerking it away from her head. She pushed her shoulder to James' sternum and pushed, that that only fanned his anger. His grip tightened, then Anna had an idea.

Instead of fighting, she tried to take a deep breath through her nose. It went against several decades of experience, but she took a choking, painful breath.

James dropped her immediately, and stumbled back, dropping the gun. Anna kept with the plan and landed on her hands and knees, one hand to her throat as it throbbed. James stumbled back until his legs hit the sofa, and he fell onto the suede. His hands gripped his head, palms pressed tightly to his temples, as corners of his consciousness he was programmed to ignore screamed at him. The conflicting instincts pounded against his skull, ricocheting like bullets. Some crashed into each other, making his breathing stutter.

"Hey." Anna said again in the same soft voice.

James' eyes, which had been pinched painfully tight, relaxed. Her voice was... _simple_.

There weren't threats he needed to asses. It didn't require intense focus like shooting someone at several thousand yards did. He didn't restrain his thoughts for fear of punishment. She hadn't hurt him; there was no pain attached to that voice. There were lingering shadows of long forgotten... _memories_ , that flew before his eyes so fast he couldn't grasp them.

A small, warm hand rested on his shoulder. He only felt her fingers and the top half of her palm. Her thumb and the rest of her palm was resting on the metal plate that wrapped over his shoulder. The over sensitive scar tissue that outlined the metal was buzzing from her touch. James jerked out of her hand, but Anna didn't give up. She grabbed his shoulder again, and put her other hand on his flesh shoulder.

" _Hey_." She said for the third time. James looked up at her as she leaned down, finally. "You need _sleep_."

James shook his head, but Anna wasn't in front of him anymore. She was in the closet by her TV, grabbing two bedrolls. She dropped one on the floor, and unrolled the other. James did the same after Anna went to her room for something. Laying on the floor was much more comfortable than the bed he'd been in.

Anna went to her room to get her fluffy duvet. She yanked it off, and leaned her hands down on her bed.

She'd cried herself to sleep. She woke up when an alert on her phone told her she'd gotten an email from Natasha. It said that her and Steve were alright, and what happened while Anna was in Nepal. There were two lists attached; casualties, and sleeper-HYDRA agents. Both lists were longer than three hundred names, and Anna knew, trained and trusted more than half. To Anna, it was a freakin' waste.

Grant Ward was on the HYDRA list.

When Anna read his name, she sighed " _Jesus_ Grant."

Anna bounced around they for a few weeks when new headmasters/mistresses were put in place, making sure the students were all good. She spent three days with Grant, who was 20 at the time, and told him a few things he said made him the agent he was today. Or, _was_ a few _days_ _ago_. He was a broken toy when he got to the S.H.I.E.L.D. Ops Academy. By the time he left, he was a first round draft pick.

"I sleep out here sometimes." Anna said, dragging her blanket with her. "After ops, mostly. It's hard to go from sleeping on a canvas cot in Somalia to a several thousand dollar bed."

James said nothing, and caught the throw blanket Anna tossed him from a chair. She fell onto the bedroll and pulled the duvet over her shoulders.

"Tomorrow..." She yawned. "Tomorrow we find out where they had you in the city...and shoot the shit out of it."

* * *

Anna POV

My circadian rhythm was completely screwed up. After flying back from Nepal, catching a few while James fixed me up, and what happened after I fixed up his arm; we went to bed around 4:30 am, and when I woke up, it was just before noon.

I stretched my arms over my head and arched my back; making a series of popcorn-like sounds. I fell back with a sigh and stared up at the ceiling. I looked to my right and smiled.

It'd been 70 years since I woke up next to that face. Granted, now it was sunken in, bearded and angry, but it was the same face. I never thought I'd see it again, let alone wake up next to it again.

I propped myself up on my elbow and ran a hand through my curls.

It felt _right_ ; waking up next to him with curly hair, in _Brooklyn_ no less.

He made a sound in the back of his throat, and I snapped my gaze to him. James still looked sound asleep; he was curled up in a ball on his side, both his hands on his head and fingers wound through his hair. I waited to see if he was waking up, but there were no more noises.

I threw my duvet over him as I stood up, and looked around my apartment for a moment before heading to the bathroom. I pushed open the door and flicked on the light. My eyebrows raised up at the sight in front of me.

The clothes I'd taken off him were still on the floor of the shower. There was a, slightly dirty, towel in front of the sinks; what he'd used to dry off, presumably. And the mirror was shattered. The white hairline cracks radiated outwards from the center.

I kicked the dirty towel to the side and rested one hand on the white counter while the other reached out to slowly to run my fingers over the fine cracks in the mirror.

I've done a lot of self-destructive things over the years; going into hot zones without backup, pissing off the Russians in the 60s, my brief relationship with recreational narcotic use, and, Ellie's personal favorite, threatening Nick Fury with everything I had to keep her off the Gifted Index. But I _never_ punched a mirror. If a person punched a mirror, that generally meant they had deep seated self hatred. So deep, that just their reflection could cause such _anger_.

A few of the pulverized glass pieces fell from under my fingers and clinked down into the sink.

I grabbed the plastic trash can from under the sink and tossed the glass from the sink into it. I balanced the trash can in the sink, and dragged my fingers over the mirror. The little pieces of glass fell away into the clear-frosted trash can. I took the knife from behind the toilet and pried off the bigger pieces from the edges, including the thin metal backing.

When I was done, I had a big, empty brick space in the middle of what used to be the prettiest white bathroom I'd ever seen. I opened the window by the fridge and with practiced skill dropped the contents of the trash can into the open dumpster eight floors down. I looked at the trash can, shrugged, and tossed that too.

As I shut the window, I heard mumbling.

James was still out cold on the bed roll in the living room. I approached slowly, making sure my socked feet didn't make hit the ground too hard or make too much noise.

Under his breath, James was muttering in what sounded like Arabic. He spoke on the exhale; he was still sleeping. I stood a few feet from him, leaning on the back of a chair, listening closely.

It was all muffled, incomplete sentences; I only got bits and pieces. But, by far, the worst one stuck out.

" _Begging won't make me stop."_

Not able to listen to anymore, I started getting ready for what I could only assume would be a marathon mission.

* * *

James woke up with a gasp, and I whipped around. I'd been waiting for him to wake up for hours.

"Hey! Heyheyheyhey _hey_!" I half-yelled as I ran over to him and landed hard on my knees in front of him. I grabbed his shoulders, looping my hands under his. Still grabbing at his hair, he looked up at me with wide eyes. "Just...Just take a breath."

He took slow, controlled breaths as I turned my attention to the fingers gripping his hair. I pulled his flesh fingers apart and put it in his lap, then started on his metal one. He jerked violently from me, and winced; probably since there was hair tangled up in the plates of his hand. Before he could just yank it out, I put a calming hand on his chest and the other on his metal wrist. I worked carefully to pull strands and locks of hair out from the metal plates. As I pulled his hand from his head, I only saw a few long, dark hairs in the plates. When his hand was in his lap, he looked up at me blankly.

"It was all real." He said under his breath. It wasn't how you would expect for it to be said; he wasn't in awe, he was stating a fact.

I sighed; I had to keep reminding myself that he wasn't _him_.

"C'mon," I said, jerking my head towards the kitchen. I got up, and put the plate on the breakfast bar. Slowly, James came towards the kitchen and sat on the same stool he'd sat on when he ate his grilled cheese. I pushed a heaping pile of scrambled eggs and hash browns towards him.

I handed him a fork, which he slowly took, and proceeded to drown the whole plate in syrup. _"_ Eat."

He looked at the sticky plate in front of him, then back at me. I frowned; there should have been a look of humored confusion on his face.

" _Eat_." I said again, going to the open laptop on the counter. After he took a few slow bites and I pried for a good ten minutes, James mumbled out where HYDRA had been keeping him.

Ten minutes later, James had barely made a dent in the heaping plate. It worried me a little; from what I read in his HYDRA file, his metabolism was off the charts. One reason he looked so crappy was because he wasn't getting anywhere near the calories he should have been getting.

"I grabbed some tactical gear for you. Pants and a jacket." I grabbed the flat black material out of the box and tossed it to him a few feet away. He didn't look up, but caught it perfectly.

"Put it on, then we'll talk weapons." I confirmed, taking a bite of the apple I called breakfast. James wordlessly stood up from his stool and yanked his shirt over his head.

One thing that was the same with Bucky and James; they had _no problem_ stripping down in front of me.

If Kara was here, she'd make me sit down and talk about my feelings and deal with them. Ellie too. But I _couldn't_ do that. How am I supposed to deal with the fact that Bucky, the love of my life, wasn't dead, but a broken down man tortured for six decades? I _can't_.

Even if I wanted too, I have more important things to do, like help James take down the people that hurt him. I'd started thinking of them as different people; it helped cope with the fact that _he didn't know me_.

When I looked back at James, he was putting on the single glove in the box to cover his flesh hand. It wasn't as fancy or durable as what he wore in all the news footage, but it'd serve it's purpose. What ever HYDRA did to him, they really bulked him up. I estimated he gained at least twenty pounds of muscle, making them more prominent, and he even seemed a little taller. Less six-foot, more six-foot-one.

"C'mon." I muttered, walking to the safe in my wall. I pushed in the brick third from the right until I heard a click. The wall opened up, and I walked right in. James, hesitantly, followed.

The walls were quarter inch steel, and the steady concrete of the building around it. The walls were the raw steel, and everything from hand grenades and sniper rifles to nunchucks and a sword.

"Take your pick." I said with a shrug, grabbing a handgun and a full clip. "Everything's clean and ready...But I'm thinking we should stay small. We look odd enough already, don't need to carry too big a bag."

Over my shoulder, I saw him just staring at the walls of guns. One controlled breath later, I was putting clips into my tactical belt. Instead of some body-armour-esque clothes, I wore black cargo pants, a tactical belt and a fitted black jacket with Kevlar strategically placed for a fight. I straightened my hair faster than I've ever straightened it earlier, and I had two hands guns on me now. I was throwing a few things in a bag.

When I was done, James still hadn't touched anything. I walked to his side, and gently put a hand on his arm. He just blinked.

"I'm supposed to _pick_." He said under his breath. "Just...Just give me something, Anna."

My breath hitched. James hadn't called me by my name...He hadn't called me _anything_ , really.

I reached for a Colt, then pulled my hand back. "No." I said, looking up at him. "You wanna undo what they did? Start by picking your own gun."

James hadn't looked at me, and stared at the wall for a while longer, then slowy reached for a SIG. Like me, he loaded up on amo.

"Hey, before we go," I grabbed his arm on his way out of my weapons cache. He didn't look at me, he had his gaze trained on his shoes. I had fingerless gloves on to protect my knuckles; there was still scaring from Montenegro on them. I raised a hand to his scratchy cheek, my thumb gently brushing his cheekbone. I've done this a few times, so he stopped jerking back. His head was still angled down, but his sparkless eyes looked at mine.

I didn't say anything. I just took in every detail of his face; the same details I took in more than half a century before. Under the lifeless eyes, the hardened line his mouth made and his perpetually lowered, furrowed brows, I saw my Bucky. His strong jaw under the slight beard, the full, pinkish lips and the rich, chocolate brown of his hair.

Taking my hand away slowly, I handed him the bag. "I'm on your side." I said as I walked out the door.

* * *

Under my apartment building, there was a large garage, and half the cars were mine. I opened the door of a black SUV, Bucky threw the bag in the back seat and got in the front. I turned the key and drove out of the building. The bank wasn't too far away; I'd normally walk, but since I had a couple of .38s on my hip, walking was out of the option. It was late now; dusk. It was tactically the best time, since there were a lot of people out as we were hard to spot, but it was the _worst_ since there were _a lot of people out_.

I screeched to a halt in front of the abandoned bank, and rifled through the bag. "Here." I said, dropping a submachine in his lap, which he proceeded to examine and load. After grabbing one myself, I took two small disks the size of coasters. Before I got out, I paused and tied a triangle of paisley blue fabric around my nose and mouth.

James didn't say a word as he got out, and walked right for the doors to the basement. I was right behind him, and threw one disk to the right and the other to the left on the sidewalk, and red beams shot up making a scrolling hologram _**DO NOT ENTER DO NOT ENTER**_.

There was only one other thing in the bag; I grabbed it and brought it to my mouth as I jogged to get to James, and once I fell in step with him I pulled the pin with my teeth and threw the flash bang into the downward slanted hallway we were walking down. The canister rolled down and right into the vault area and went off.

A few startled screams came from the men there, and two armed men in black ran at us. I already had my gun up, and hit them each twice in the head. I could feel James' angry glare on the side of my face, but I refused to look at him. He didn't seem to fond of my playful sarcasm, so I kept it to myself. And, I might add, I am _hilarious_.

"Drop everything!" I yelled. The flash bang left thick smoke, and I was glad for my bandana. I wanted to give James something to keep his breathing easy, but he flat out refused.

One man picked up a screwdriver like a knife, and James shot him. The guy was dead before he hit the floor.

Six more men tried to save themselves, running behind us to the door. While I used zipcuffs on the men who actually had a brain and put their hands up, James stood perfectly still in the middle of the room, looking around. His gaze locked on a chair in the corner. It was black and metal, with components I didn't recognize.

"That's it." He said hoarsely. "That...That's what they used on me to-to wipe me...That-That's what... _took_ everything."

I stood next to him, and put a hand on his arm. His gaze snapped to my hand, then me. "Hey, we have a job to do, alright?" I said from under my bandana. He nodded.

I smiled at him, which I think he understood (half my face _was_ covered).

"We can _burn it_ when we're done if you like."


	16. Chapter 16: The Barnes Family

**Update 1 of 2**

 **Well, This started as a snipit to explain TJ's family situation, and turned into a chapter all it's own. This is just background, some of these people will pop up again later.**

 **Note: This entire chapter takes place in the past. It's a little fluffish, but it also kinda puts in place some stuff for later, and shows more about Anna's life without Bucky.**

 **Now, don't be to harsh! I wrote this all in one sitting in one day!**

 **Enjoy this chapter! And the one I hope to post later today! ;)**

 **~Christianne**

 **PS~ **UNEDITED****

* * *

Anna POV

 **1947**

I let out a happy gasp as I rushed into the living room. I squealed loudly and sat close to Rebecca. "I'm so sorry I wasn't here sooner!" I apologized quickly, looking at the twin baby boys in the bassinet in front of us.

"It's fine," Rebecca said, laughing softly. She reached in and softly pulled one of the little hats back over the teeny-tiny baby head. There was a stitched **S** on the front of the hat. "They're only a week old...They wouldn't have known."

For the past few months I've been crisscrossing the country doing 100 different things for both Howard and S.H.I.E.L.D.

Seven months ago, Rebecca left Martin; the day before he'd hit Penny. All the seven-year-old did was grab his pant leg and try to tug him towards her drawing Beccy had taped to the fridge earlier.

Ian offered up half of his large house to them, telling her she could stay as long as they needed. The gruff Scotsman didn't bat an eye when Beccy told him that there would soon be **four** to put up instead of two.

There was a pool going on to see how long it'd take for them to get married; my money was on six months after the babies were born. Ian was an all around good guy; he treated Penny like she was his own and even gave up his large study for Penny to have an art studio.

"What'd you name them?" I asked, brushing a finger over the tiny palm of the boy with **J** stitched over his hat.

"Steven Tobias and James Ian." Rebecca said, smiling softly. Her long dark hair was in a loose braid, and she looked exhausted; I've never seen her happier.

"Steven Tobias and James Ian." I repeated, my heart swelling. It swelled more when Baby James grabbed onto my finger tight.

"Tobias after my brother." Beccy explained under her breath. I knew Toby; he was a sweet young man (who liked other sweet young men). I helped him get a job at a French diamond distributor and jewelry company. Every time I went undercover (which was more than Howard would like), I always told Toby and he sent me whatever I needed; cocktail rings, diamond necklaces, brooches with rare gems. All I had to do was ask.

"And...Ian because-"

"Uh-huh." I cut her off, smiling.

Baby James made a little sound, and flailed his arm, hitting Baby Steven in the arm. He then started to lightly smack the little hat he wore, and Baby Steven couched once, like he was about to cry.

"Oh...Oh c'mere sweet boy." Beccy cooed, lifting Baby Steven up and putting him on her shoulder.

I moved closer to the bassinet and pulled the little hat off Baby James. I slowly stroked the smattering of dark hair over his tiny head.

"They way you talk about them..." Beccy sighed, patting Baby Steven's back. "They were more like brothers than some real brothers I know."

I knew she was talking about Bucky and Steve. "Yeah, they were." I swallowed twice, and gave my thigh a hard pinch; I couldn't cry now.

"I know twins are always close...But I want them to be best friends like Bucky and Steve." Beccy continued, putting Baby Steven back next to his brother.

"What name are you using now?" I asked Beccy a few minutes later.

"I'm sure as hell not using Ashford anymore; it was Marty's name...My mom and dad disowned me when I got divorced..." She trailed off, her gaze flicking to the hallway. Through it, Ian and Penny could be seen running around the foyer. Ian had a paper pirate hat on, and was playfully chasing Penny, who was wearing some fairy wings Kiku made for her out of wire and tulle.

"I'm a Barnes again." She finished, smiling.

I laughed once. "Yeah...That's all the world needs." Beccy gave me an odd look.

" _Another_ James Barnes."

* * *

 **1967**

I was hugging Jimmy tighter as he cried into my shoulder. I smiled, near tears myself; He was pretty young to be a father, he was turning 21 in a few months, but I had no doubt that he'd be a good one. When he finally let go, he wasn't smiling.

"He-He's perfect. The doctors say he's perfect." Jimmy sniffed once, wiping under his nose with his hand. He looked over my shoulder expectantly. "Where's Stevie?"

My eyes fell shut and I sighed sadly. I took Jimmy's hand tightly. "I pulled all the strings I could." I finally said.

While Jimmy was setting up a successful platform for a diner and getting married, Stevie enlisted in the army the day after he turned 18. I'd successfully kept him out of Vietnam so far; he was bouncing around from training camp to training camp and climbing the ranks. Since I was bouncing him around, I couldn't get him here on short notice.

Jimmy sucked in a breath and nodded quickly, making his brown hair flop around. "Yeah...Yeah, I-I get it."

My brows furrowed. "What's wrong Jimmy?" I asked seriously; he was crying too much for a new father and smiling not enough.

"Uh...W-Wendy..." He trailed off. I knew Wendy. I liked Wendy. Wendy was his wife; pretty little blonde with bright green eyes and liked to sing while she cooked. She and Jimmy were high school sweethearts. "She...The-The doctors said there-there were...problems."

I sat Jimmy down in a chair and brought Beccy and Ian away from the glass where they could see the babies; they were waiting for James Barnes Jr., or JJ as I heard him being called, to be brought out. While Rebecca held her son, Ian got on the phone himself and called everyone he could to get to the hospital. Over the years, thought Ian and Rebecca never got married, he became a father to Penny, Jimmy and Stevie.

I called Kara and had Howard fly her down to Hawaii, where the Barnes had settled, but it was no use.

Wendy died due to complications during childbirth seven hours after giving birth. She had just turned 20 the week before, and had left her young husband alone with their baby.

Before I left the island I made Jimmy an offer; ditch the diner and come to DC to work with S.H.I.E.L.D. Six weeks later I picked them up at the airport.

* * *

 **1970**

I could only keep Stevie out of 'Nam for so long. He was a paratrooper, one of the best, and he was a captain now. He knew what he was doing. He'd been in the jungle six weeks and already had a nickname; CA. As in 'Captain America." He was a captain, his name was Steven, his uncle was a Commando, _and_ he cracked a VC's skull open with a rock on his first patrol and took out seven more with his handgun. He earned the nickname like his namesake earned it.

Today was his first jump, and I made damn sure I was going to be there. I had Pegy dump as much paperwork on Jimmy as she could, and take JJ to the Smithsonian.

"Hey CA!" An Asian-American trooper yelled to Stevie at the front of the chopper. "Who's the chick?" He asked, jerking his head in my direction.

Stevie cracked a smile. "What's wrong with you Tommy? Don't recognise the lady in the picture on my ma's mental?" He yelled back.

My heart broke out in a sprint. I'd been so worried about getting Jimmy on the right track and Stevie out of trouble (a surprisingly familiar feeling) I forgot about _Tommy_.

Thomas Masaru Falsworth, born January 7, 1946 to Kiku and Montgomery Falsworth. Like Ian, Monty and Jim cashed in and got villas in Hawaii. It took a lot of batted eyelashes and pouted lips by Kiku to get Monty to move to Hawaii, where the average temperature was above seventy degrees. Tommy, Jimmy and Stevie went to school together. They were the three musketeers; tighter than tight. Jimmy went to DC after JJ was born, Stevie went off to the Army, and Tommy was still living at home.

I looked up at Tommy. Thick, sweat-shiny black hair plastered to his forehead under his helmet. Bright, intelligent narrowed green eyes.

"Auntie!" Tommy recognised, pulling me into a one armed hug while his other held the bar above him. He said how much he missed me. He thanked me for all the birthday and christmas gifts. He told me his mom, my best friend, Kiku, wanted me to come by for a visit soon. He told me how 'Uncle Jim' was dating a new girl that he really liked. He told me that Rebecca just sold three paintings.

He was happy and excited and I was panicking. I grabbed Tommy's shoulders and made him look at me. "Were you drafted or did you enlist?" I demanded.

"What's it matter?" Tommy asked, a little confused.

"Answer the question."

"Drafted. But I was going to enlist anyway." Tommy said, then smiled. "What are you doing here? I thought you were with Jimmy in DC?"

Before I could answer, the red light started flashing.

"You ready boys?" Stevie yelled, getting a chorus of 'Yessir!' from behind him.

They started jumping. Once Tommy was gone I went to the pilot. "Circle around twice. Then put 'er down." I ordered above the sound of the propellers. I got one nod, then the chopper started to turn.

It seemed like an eternity before it landed. It was smokey from napalm in a neighboring village; the wind wasn't cooperating. Three steps out of the helicopter I was coughing up a lung. I dashed back and looked around. I saw a ratty bandana tied around a handle; to make it easier to grab, probably. I untied it and wrapped it around my nose and mouth. I stole the pilot's aviator's off his face, grabbed an M16 and ran into the field.

I didn't bother to keep count of how many farmers with AK47s I killed and stepped over.

Then it stopped.

In a matter of six seconds, all the gun shots, explosions and yelling stopped.

I yanked the aviators off my face and slowly circled in my spot. The leaves of a fern rustled, and I put my gun up. Not a second later I pulled the trigger. I kicked the battered machine gun out of the unmoving hands and I heard it.

" _Tommy!_ "

I ran towards Stevie's terrified scream, looking around wildly.

"Hey! Hey Anna! A-Auntie Anna! Help me out her!"

I stopped and spun on a heel.

"Up here!"

I looked up and saw Stevie ten feet up in a tree with his knife. About five feet above him were Tommy's feet. His chute got caught in the trees.

"I'll cut him down." I said, putting the strap of my gun over my head and climbing up. Stevie got to the ground, and I cut the lines with Bucky's trench knife. Tommy's lean body fell towards Stevie, who caught him. It brought him to his knees, but Stevie caught Tommy.

"Go to the chopper and radio for medical." I ordered Stevie, looking over Tommy from head to toe. "Where are the rest of your men?"

"They...They're fine...At the village." Stevie said numbly, looking at Tommy's unmoving face.

" _Steven Tobias Barnes_ go to the _fucking_ chopper and _call for medical_!" I yelled, using the bandana to make a tight tunicate over a bullet wound in Tommy's thigh. I pressed an ear to his chest.

"C'mon Tommy," I said, starting compressions on his chest.

"C'mon…. _C'mon_!" I growled, tipping his chin up and blowing air into his lungs.

He wasn't breathing. He wasn't _fucking_ breathing. The bullet in his leg must have nicked an artery. There was a massive pool of blood on the ground from when he was hanging in a tree.

"C'mon… _Breathe_ you stupid kid!" I hissed, continuing the compressions.

When I blew another lungful of air into his mouth, I grabbed his pistol. When I leaned back from Tommy, I fired three quick shots; killing the three Vietcong they were coming up on us.

I thought about Kiku. My best friend since I was a kid. This was her **son**.

Continuing with compressions, I squeezed my eyes shut and tried not to think about Kiku breaking down at the door after someone told her he was gone. I tried not to think about Monty sitting next to his wife on the floor, cradling her, rocking back and forth with her when he was crying a little himself.

" _Breathe!_ " I yelled, clasping my fingers together, raising them over my head and slammed them down on Tommy's sternum.

"Don't die. Don't you _dare_ die Thomas!" I yelled.

When Stevie got back, Tommy still wasn't breathing.

"Auntie!" Stevie yelled, running towards me. He yanked off his helmet and rested his hands on his knees, panting. He wiped sweat off his face, ran a hand through his dark hair and stood up. "I-I called a medi-"

A shot rang out.

"Stevie! Who'd you call?" I demanded, still doing compressions. Nothing.

"Steve-" I looked to my left.

Stevie was on his stomach in front of Tommy. Bright blue eyes open, half his face crushed against the hard ground. Half his forehead was blown out.

I screamed. All I could do was scream.

These are the children of my best friends, and _all I could do was scream._

_-~0O0~-_

I didn't want to knock on the door. My hands were bloody and dirty; I didn't want to knock on the door. It was a pristine pale green, with diamonds of glass cut out in a pretty pattern.

I made myself knock on the glass, and my eyes closed when laughter floated through the door.

Kiku answered the door. "Anna! What are you doing here?...What _on earth_ are you wearing?"

I hadn't changed out of the fatigue pants, black t-shirt, cargo jacket and boots. I was sweaty, dirty and dusty. I also knew I had a massive blood smear on my stomach from when I was gripping onto Stevie's head and screaming in the chopper. I'd flown straight from Vietnam to Hawaii's big island.

"Is..." I trailed off. I saw Jim and a pretty native Hawaiian woman on the loveseat in the living room, Monty in a chair, Ian and Rebecca were next to each other on the couch.

I closed my eyes to compose myself and took a deep breath. "Are the parents of Captain Steven Barnes and Corporal Thomas Falsworth present?"

"What?" Kiku asked, her brow furrowing.

"What's going on, Anna?" Monty asked, getting up from his chair to stand behind his wife. He had a worried look on his face which only deepened when he saw my appearance.

"Are the parents of Captain Steven Barnes and Corporal Thomas Falsworth present?" I asked again.

"Annie? What's going on?" Beccy asked, shifting in her seat. Ian put a hand on her shoulder.

"Are the parents of Captain Steven-"

"Anna you're scaring me a little bit." Kiku whimpered.

I pinched my eyes shut and curled my fists up at my sides. "Are the parents of-"

"Yeah," Ian spoke up. Over the years, his Scottish accent only got thicker. "Yeah...They're presen'."

"I regret to inform you that on September tenth, 1970-"

Kiku's hand went to her mouth to stifle a scream. She lost her balance and Monty grabbed her .

"-Captain Steven Barnes-"

I heard Rebecca mumbling prayers to God that this wasn't real.

"-and Corporal Thomas Falsworth-"

While Rebecca was slowly crumbling down against Ian, Kiku was desperately grabbing onto Monty's shirt and sobbing loudly.

"-were killed in action."

Rebecca was being held tightly by Ian. His dark hair was almost totally gray now, as was his beard. He had tears welling up in his eyes as well, but never let one shed. Rebecca was shaking, and barely making a sound. It was very Rebecca; she was a strong woman.

Jim's girl had a ring on her finger; a pretty blue stone and two red ones. I'd seen pictures of that ring, it was his mommas. This lady was his fiancee. She she hugging Jim's arm tightly, and had a hand pressed to her own stomach.

"Anna," Kiku choked out. "Are-Are you..." She couldn't speak.

"Are we getting his body?" Monty asked for her. I'm not saying Kiku isn't strong, far from it actually, but she's...She's more emotional.

I nodded wordlessly. "Their bodies will be flown in tomorrow...Noon."

After that, I turned and left. I could hear the mothers of the two kids I watched die screaming in the house behind me.

* * *

 **Two Days Later**

I gasped awake when my phone rang.

I was on the floor, still sweaty, bloody and smelling like the jungle.

My head felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. I fumbled for the phone cord and yanked the whole phone to the floor. It tumbled off the side table, and I managed to get it to my face.

" _She's pregnant!_ "

I took a breath, making myself sit up. "Hey Howard."

" _She's pregnant!_ " He said again. His voice was close to laughing. I could hear the smile in his voice, and it made me smile a little too.

It went away when I looked down at my free arm dangled by my side. I could see some angry red marks in the crease of it. I looked away from my arm, and out the window at the dark sky outside my hotel window. "Maria?"

" _Yeah! Yeah-Anna I'm going to be a_ _ **dad**_ _!_ "

I felt tears welling up in my eyes. "That's...That's great news Howard."

" _Maria just told me! You're my first call! Oh my God we have so much to do..._ "

Howard, in typical **Howard** fashion, was talking at rapid fire about anything and everything you'd need for a baby. Though he never said it, I'm sure he had 'if it's worth doing, it's worth overdoing' crocheted on a pillow somewhere in his big house.

With a good amount of effort, I got myself up on the bed. I saw the forms to get every child of a Howling Commando or any SSR agent out of the draft and out of Vietnam next to three vials of milky gray liquid. I'd peeled off the neon pink, green and purple labels with **DREAMLAND** written in loopy letters right after I got them. Two were empty.

" _Why'd you come back early? I thought you were going to stay until Stevie came home._ "

With one hand I got a syringe out of the plastic bag I snagged from the base I landed in.

" _Are you ok, Anna?_ " Howard finally asked.

"Yeah..." I trailed off. With practiced expertise, I used one hand to get the needle of the syringe and filled it. "Yeah, Howard...I'm fine."

" _Ok...Well, I have to call Peggy. Why don't you come by in a few days? I feel like I haven't seen you in years._ "

"Sure Howard, I'll stop by...See you soon." I hung up, and pushed my sleeve up. I jammed the syringe into my arm, pushed the plunger down, and fell back onto the mountain of pillows. I threw the syringe to the floor and pressed a hand to my arm.

Dieter gave me an estimated .5 milligrams in '44. Now, just to feel the effect, I needed 40 milligrams. To knock me out, like now, I needed upwards of 60.

I reached up and played with Bucky's dog tags.

"Oh, darlin'..." I trailed off, tears slipping down my cheeks. " _If you could see me now._ "

* * *

 **1973**

"Thanks," Jimmy said to the pretty redhead who handed him a bulging orange legal envelope. She gave him a polite smile back, and walked away. He leaned back over his chair to watch her leave.

Without looking up from my turkish coffee, I gave Jimmy's shin a sharp kick.

He jumped, let out a little yelp. Reaching to rub his leg under the table, Jimmy glared at me. "What was that for?" He hissed at me.

"You have a _son_." I scolded him, shaking my head.

"No. No, Jimmy Barnes has a son..." He trailed off, opening up the envelope. "But _Veniamin Artyom_ doesn't." He said with a grin, holding the Ukrainian passport Terry (the redhead) had handed him in the envelope. It also contained a few thousand ruble, a phony ID and a Glock with two full clips.

JJ spent most of his time with Rebecca in Hawaii; Jimmy worked eight months sporadically through the year, and spent the rest with JJ in DC. Gone or not, Jimmy was a good dad. I was meeting up with his before he went undercover for the next few months.

"You'll get the flowers?" Jimmy asked, straightening his tie. It didn't matter if he was going to a dive bar in Tibet or going under as a nuclear specialist from the Ukraine and going to be working in a dirty, rundown Russian nuclear site; Jimmy dressed like he was _James Bond_.

I nodded, daintily setting the turkish coffee cup down. "White roses, extra thorns." I recalled, smiling. Jimmy would be missing the anniversary of Stevie's death while undercover; he always went and put flowers on his dead twin's grave, but I was going to be putting them there this year.

"Hey, I have another riddle for JJ," Jimmy said suddenly, grabbing a napkin and scrawling on it with his pen. He slid it over to me, I read it and snorted.

" _How many eggs can you put in an empty basket?_ " I read, still chuckling. "Really?"

"Hey! He's five! I think that's a pretty decent riddle for him!" Jimmy defended himself, scrawling on another napkin. He folded it up a few times and slid it over to me. "Here's the answer."

I took it, then grasped his hand. I held it tighter and tighter until he looked at me. His eyes were the same blue as his mother's (and his uncle's) eyes. Idly, I thanked God that he didn't look like Martin's kid at all.

" _Be safe._ " I said lowly in Russian.

Jimmy cracked a smirk. " _Always am, Auntie Anna_." He replied, also in flawless Russian.

I smiled, hoping he didn't see how sad it was. I got up, and pressed a kiss to his fluffy dark hair. He didn't like it when I did that, but I did it anyway. It was, after all, the last time I'd see him; I planned to fake my death in a few months.

* * *

 **2006**

"Ready... _ **Fire!**_ "

Shots rang out across the shooting range, and I winced. The Science and Tech. Academy students only had a few months of operational training, and _you could tell_. There were 50 students currently firing now, and so far no one had hit the target with the long range rifles.

"Jesus... _Who_ trained these kids again?" I asked, looking at Anne Weaver. She was the deputy director of the SciTech Academy. There were rumors that the current director would be stepping down in the next few years, and that Anne was going to be up for the spot. I think it was about time; Ops and Communications have had female directors already, SciTech (my personal favorite) was due for one.

"They trained themselves." Weaver told me, getting a shocked look. "Field operations is an optional course, Dr. Brightman." She reminded me.

My eyebrows raised up. " _What?_ Since _when_?"

"Several months ago." Weaver said with a slight shrug. She was about to say more, but there was the distinct sound of a bullet hitting metal. I snapped my gaze through the bullet resistant glass and saw a small hole dead center in the target hung under a big _**44**_.

I slammed my hand down on the speaker button. "Hold your fire!" I yelled into the speaker. There was still shots going off. I groaned. "That means _stop shooting_!"

A few more, then nothing.

I walked out of the protective box, leaving the bullet proof vest off, and walking down the hallway to the firing boxes. I saw the smaller, nerdy looking agents-to-be watching me in slight awe. I was a pretty big deal in all three academies, but I was _especially_ big here. I kept walking until I got to 44, and leaned on it.

The boy sitting in it was clutching his eye and leaning on one of the little walls, the rifle forgotten next to him. I smiled a little. Poor boy put the scope too close to his eye.

"What's your name?" I asked, crossing my arms loosely.

"T-TJ." He said, composing himself. He pulled his hands away from his eye, and I saw a small cut just under it. "Er, uh," he scrambled to his feet. "TJ Barnes."

My eyebrows rose up; JJ's kid. I'd heard he'd come to S.H.I.E.L.D., but I thought he would have gone to Ops like his dad. When I faked my death in late '74, I cut off contact with Jimmy. He'd taken it pretty hard, but pulled himself together for JJ.

JJ had a kid pretty young, and now here he was. All five-foot-eight, gangly limbs and shaggy hair of James Barnes the Third was in front of me.

"TJ." I repeated, testing the name out. I nodded towards the range. "Fire again."

His brows furrowed. "What?"

"Fire. _Again_."

"I-I gave myself a black eye!" TJ defended himself, still shocked at what I was saying.

"If you end up in the field, you could be firing with a lot worse than that. _Fire again._ " I said, taking the rifle from the ground, popping the casing out and jamming a new one in. I held it out to TJ, and he slowly took it.

He got back on the ground. They'd been firing in a classic sniper pose; on their bellies. He took his time. TJ stared through the scope for a long time, taking slow, controlled breaths. When he finally did fire, he jerked back when the scope made a sick crunching sound against his nose. I was watching the target he was shooting at; his second shot was so close to the first one that I almost didn't think he hit the target at all.

_-~0O0~-_

"Why is your badge backwards?" I asked TJ. After I realized this boy gave himself a broken nose and a black eye from the scope of a rifle, I towed him to the infirmary. He was shocked to the point of silence as I explained who I was and how I was here.

When he broke his nose, he actually fixed it from an earlier break on a training course. Now he had tissues pressed to it and his head tipped back.

"Yeah...I don't like what people say when they read it... _You're_ JJ's _son_? You're _Jimmy Barnes'_ _grandson_?" TJ explained vaguely.

"So?" I asked, leaning on a gurney behind me. "Just take the compliment and go."

"It's not a compliment." TJ explained. His voice was nasal from the tissues pressed to his nose. "They expected me to be like them... _Suave_ and _charming_ and _athletic_..."

"So...?" I trailed off expectantly.

"So I'm in the _Science and Technology Academy_. Not _Operations_." TJ said forcefully, standing up. He paced in a circle, trying to get the dried blood off his fingers. "My granddad was in the first class of the Operations Academy. My dad gave the whole thing and overhaul when he was laid up from an explosion when I was in grade school...I-I'm not doing what I'm _supposed_ to be doing!"

"Says who?" I laughed. TJ was clearly a little distressed at this point, an looked at me in shock. I used my foot to shove a chair at the 19-year-old.

"Listen up and listen good. You, better than anybody, should know that when people think you should do is almost never what you end up doing." I said, leaning forward slightly.

"When is that better?" TJ muttered.

I sighed and handed him the box of tissues; his nose was bleeding again.

"Do you know who you shoot like?" I asked him.

"I thought we were talking about-"

"You shoot _just like_ your great-great-uncle, _James Buchanan Barnes_."

TJ just blinked up at me. "Really?" He asked doubtfully.

"Yup. You're a natural, just like him." I said with a smile. I've said that three times, two three people; I've said it to Jimmy, JJ, now TJ. Must be a _Barnes_ thing.

TJ was mopping up blood again. "Am...Am I like him? Any of them? At-At all?"

I smiled and slung an arm over his shoulders.

"TJ, I have a feeling you're more like Bucky than your dad or granddad ever could be."


	17. Chapter 17: NOTHING'S OFF LIMITS FOR HIM

**Update 2 of 2**

 **I went a little different way with this, so be gentle my cupcakes!**

 **Enjoy!**

 **~Christianne**

* * *

" _We can burn it when we're done if you like."_

 **12 Hours Later**

Omniscient POV

S.H.I.E.L.D. was gone.

A few agents were holed up in safe houses, but more were just running in the dark. TJ was one of the agents that got a hold of a safe house. Technically, it was his apartment, but it was a registered safe house. That way he didn't have to pay rent, the excessive amounts of electricity were hidden and he had a triple reinforced door.

TJ had been getting groceries when he got the alert on his phone that every S.H.I.E.L.D. agent was not only labeled a terrorist, but that HYDRA was in S.H.I.E.L.D. He heard Captain America's speech about freedom in his apartment while he threw up a few times; TJ's stress management skills needed work.

After he righted himself, he took a deep breath and ran through the list of things Anna told him to do if he needed to go dark.

He packed up an SUV from the garage with his equipment; computers, tablets, hard drives, a few pet-projects and some extra items to replace anything that got broken. Everything was in cases, and packed into the SUV with the skill of an expert Tetris player, accept for the toolbox and dufflebag in the passenger's seat. TJ's dufflebag was always packed with a few sets of clothes and enough food for a week. He kept it under his bed.

Anna told him that everything he'd need was in his go-bag when she packed it for him. TJ disagreed. He wasn't a born and bred agent like Romanoff. He was born in a small town in Michigan, and when he visited his parents, he slept in the same baby blue room his crib was in.

The biggest difference between him and Romanoff was that he was _sentimental_.

On his bedroom wall, there were two or three dozen picture frames. His masters from the University of Michigan. Photos of his family. The first mission file with his name in it. _When you go dark, you never leave a trail. You were never anywhere you were._ Anna's words rattled in his head as he took apart the frames and ripped the papers out.

He left the dismantled frames in his kitchen, and used an old trash can and lighter fluid to start a blaze. He watched sadly as all the pictures of him and his mom, dad, sister and granddad burned. Everything he had with him that made him TJ Barnes was turning to ash.

Accept one thing. He kept one small frame.

He walked out of his apartment, hugging the frame to his chest, and leaving the burning trash can on the fire escape.

TJ's favorite safe house was in upstate New York. When Anna was training him, she showed TJ a little run down farmhouse and said 'This is the safest place you'll ever see.' It was an hour drive just to get to the county it was in, and another two hours to get to the house. It was a 45 minute drive to see another building.

At the S.H.I.E.L.D. Science and Technology Academy, they had three months of operational training. TJ didn't to particularly well, but remembered enough to yank the distributor cap from the engine (so no one else could drive off) and cover it with branches and leaves.

TJ hauled all the cases, computer equipment and duffle into the dark cellar. He shuffled around with a flashlight in his mouth, setting up a generator and hanging lights by hooks over the rafters. Once all of them were up, TJ turned the generator on and the cellar was flooded with light.

Next thing he did was set up an old school beacon. Well, TJ's interpretation of an old school beacon. It was a stupidly simple Morse Code sequence, asking a question. It was a riddle that TJ's granddad used to tell him all the time.

 _How many eggs can you put in an empty basket?_

The answer had to be worded perfectly, and once it went through, the firewall went down and allowed the person to access the GPS coordinates of TJ's location.

While the beacon spat out the same sequence over and over again, TJ moved haybales and empty crates around to set up a makeshift desk desk for his computer equipment, and a softer place that the dirt floor for his bedroll.

After it was all set up, TJ fell, exhausted, onto his haybale bed and pulled the small frame from the wall in his old apartment out of his dufflebag.

He met Dum-Dum Dugan the day before he was sworn in as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. The older soldier must have seen the fear in his eyes, the way the water in his glass shook and hoe TJ never met anybody's eyes. Dum-Dum stood up from his chair and waved TJ to a side room. There, he pulled out a dusty box. In that box, was the Silver Star awarded to James B. Barnes.

While TJ held the medal awarded to his namesake, Dum-Dum told him how there was a lot that Bucky, Jimmy and JJ, his father, did that TJ couldn't, but there was plenty more that TJ could do that Bucky, Jimmy and JJ put together couldn't.

The ribbon was getting frayed now, even though it was in a hermetically sealed frame. There was a nail in the wall, which TJ hung the frame on. It was crooked, and no matter how much TJ fiddled with it it wouldn't hang straight.

TJ went from his sort-of bed to his computers and started his search for Anna. She was supposed to check in with him when he got back to the States.

* * *

 **36 Hours Later**

A pinging noise made TJ jerk up from his bed so fast the packet of freeze-dried mashed potatoes he'd fallen asleep eating flew off his chest. Not bothering to take the plastic spoon from his mouth, the young former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent got to his feet and brought up the response to the transmission.

 _One egg, after that the basket isn't empty anymore_.

Grinning around the spoon, TJ brought down the firewall and sent his GPS coordinates. Not three seconds later, a second transmission was sent out.

 _Are you S.H.I.E.L.D.? Are you AB?_

TJ frowned. He'd hoped Anna had been the one who answered, but if they were _asking_ for AB, it _wasn't_ AB.

 _Am S.H.I.E.L.D. Not AB._ TJ sent back.

Several hours later, TJ heard a car screech to a stop. He was standing on a crate, a screwdriver in his mouth, adjusting the metal bar he'd just put up. He didn't have a chance to even step down or take the screwdriver out of his mouth before Natasha Romanoff stepped into the cellar.

After looking around the cellar briefly, Natasha waltzed to the middle of the dirt-floor room and yelled up to the surface. "C'mon boys...Bacement's fine."

TJ took the screwdriver from his mouth, wiped it on his pants, and watched the creaky wooden stairs as three men came down. A familiar looking dirty-blond man; Agent Clint Barton. A _very_ familiar blond man; Captain Steve Rogers. And an unfamiliar African American man. Agent Barton and the unfamiliar man were supporting Cpt. Rogers' large frame down the steps; he looked like he was run over by a truck.

After the captain was on TJ's makeshift bed, he exhaled loudly and leaned on the wall. He pressed a hand to his abdomen, and glanced at Natasha, who was rifling through the freeze dried food in TJ's bag.

"TJ, meet Steve and Sam Wilson. Steve and Sam, meet TJ." Natasha said, examining a flat package that read _Spagetti_. "One of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s best, and _definitely_ on our side."

"It-It's an honor to meet you, Captain Rogers." TJ said, while nodding a few times and scratching the back of his neck. The African American man, Sam, seemed to be eyeing him up.

Steve glanced away from TJ, ignoring him, to Natasha. "How do you know?"

"Cause TJ here can't lie to save his life." Natasha said casually, slinging an arm around the aforementioned TJ's shoulders.

"A-Agent Romanoff? Could-Could you stop touching me?" TJ asked, stammering a little. Natasha just smirked and smacked his shoulder.

"She's right, though," TJ said a moment later. "I can't lie to save my life...Literally."

"Literally?" Sam asked doubtfully.

"Yeah," TJ answered, nodding. His brown hair flopped around over his forehead. "I have a scar to prove it." He said, starting to shrug out of his hoodie.

"No," Sam said quickly. "No...I believe you, man."

Tugging his hoodie back on, TJ looked at the ground until Steve spoke.

"You know where Anna is?"

"Well, uh, sort of." TJ admitted, scratching the back of his neck.

" _Sort of_." Steve repeated, sitting up from the wall. "How do you _sort of_ know where she is?"

"I know where she's been," TJ explained, going to his makeshift desk. He tapped on a few keys. "Anna was taken back to her apartment from Arlington."

"Arlington...The cemetery?" Sam asked, sounding confused.

"Yeah..." TJ trailed off, debating if he should say why. "She-She likes to visit him."

Sam nodded, accepting the answer.

The metal bar he'd been setting up was one of twelve; they made a cube around the majority of the room. They sent blue-green beams of light between each other, giving the appearance that it was one single block of light.

"Whoa..." Sam said lowly. Steve and Natasha couldn't hide their surprise either.

"Looks like Stark tech," Natasha commented.

TJ smiled bashfully. "Thanks...I've been working on it for a few years now. I call it Agil Laser Imaging Component Environment."

"A.L.I.C.E." Natasha put together.

TJ smiled and nodded, typing on the keyboard. "Yeah...I've been working on this before I got into the academy...I was teased about it that A.L.I.C.E. was my _girlfriend_." A few more taps on the computer and TJ stood up.

"I made software that can make a laser map of any room that has camera footage. Two camera minimum for a picture." TJ explained, then hit _Enter_.

The lasers morphed into a room. A few men at tables, a chair-like contraption in the other, and two doors open on the laser-wall ahead of them. The lasers made a real picture with depth; very similar to technology that Tony Stark had.

"This is at 30% scale."

"What is it?" Steve asked.

"The last footage of Anna." TJ explained.

"I don't see Anna." Natasha said condescendingly.

TJ fidgeted, then hit a few keys. "This brings everything to 100% scale and focuses on the images most relevant."

One more click and the laser-images began playing.

A small cylinder rolled into the room, followed by a bright flash. The smoke, while looking odd made of the thin laser beams, didn't let the four people see much. Bodies fell to the floor, and the smoke cleared quickly. Seven on the floor, two in the open doors. The men who had been at the tables were now being wrestled to the floor by one figure, the other stood motionless in the middle.

" _Bucky_." Steve said, mildly shocked.

TJ paused the laser feed.

The man with the long dark hair was looking at the chair with wide, terrified eyes. The other person was smaller, female, with a bandana over her nose and mouth.

"That Anna?" Sam asked, nodding towards the woman.

"Yeah...Yeah, that's Anna." Natasha answered, narrowing her eyes. "What's she saying?" The bandana over her nose and mouth was moving.

"Can't tell, but I can see what he's saying," TJ said, typing a little more. He wound the feed back, and pulled up a lipreading program. As Bucky spoke, a box focused around his mouth and words appeared over his head.

 _ **THAT'S IT. THAT...THAT'S WHAT THEY USED TO TO WIPE ME...THAT THAT'S WHAT...TOOK EVERYTHING.**_

It was dead silent in the cellar.

Bucky became the focus of the images as he walked towards a desk with boxes of files strewn over it.

Anna yanked the bandana under her chin, and turned towards the seven men bound behind her. The lasers swiveled to show her standing in front of the men on the floor. She held her gun out and spoke.

The lip reading software was still running, and the box formed around her lips. Words scrolled over her head.

 _ **WHO CAN SHOW ME HOW TO USE THAT CHAIR?**_ Anna demanded, gesturing to the something behind her. The images swiveled to show the odd chair in the back.

Slowly, the youngest man raised a shaky hand up. His other hand was zip-tied to a pipe above him, and his face was trained on the tops of his knees, which were pulled up to his chest.

Anna used a long knife to cut his zip tie on his wrist and yanked him with her to the chair.

 _ **SHOW ME.**_ Anna demanded.

"A.L.I.C.E. works by using camera angles and a massive database that adds depth and makes the images 3D...There are four cameras in the room, and none of them have an angle that lets the software read their lips." TJ explained vaguely.

The three people in the cellar with him just stared at the laser images with stoic faces as the young HYDRA agent and Anna looked at the chair.

It seemed like hours, but it was only seven minutes, Anna turned from the chair to look at the other men along the wall.

 _ **HOW MANY YEARS DID YOU KNOW WHAT THEY WERE DOING TO HIM?**_

They spoke from left to right.

 _ **TEN YEARS.**_

 _ **SEVEN YEARS.**_

 _ **FOUR YEARS.**_

 _ **FOUR YEARS.**_

The fifth one was too scared to talk, and held up three fingers.

 _ **FIFTEEN YEARS.**_

She turned towards the man by the chair.

 _ **I-I FOUND OUT LAST OCTOBER.**_ He said, a terrified look on his face.

Anna nodded once, then raised her gun.

She shot the first man ten times in the head. His skull was unrecognisable when she was done. The second man was shot seven times. She stopped to reload. The third four times, the fourth four times, the fifth three times. She stopped to reload again, then shot the sixth man fifteen times.

The seventh man, the one by the chair, spoke. _**PLEASE DON'T KILL ME.**_

Anna answered.

 _ **OH, I'M NOT GOING TO KILL YOU.**_ She said with a smile.

Anna grabbed the man's collar, kneed him in the groin and slammed him down into the chair. He groaned in pain, and Anna pushed a few buttons. The young agent's wrists were held down to the arms of the chair with thick metal bands. He was squirming and screaming as a metal plate closed over half his face.

"I...I blocked the program there...It-It was pretty bad." TJ explained as the lasers moved to show Anna kneeling down by Bucky.

He grabbed onto her tightly as he shook. Anna cradled his head and shoulders, and even pressed a kiss to his dark hair as the young HYDRA agent in the background convulsed and jolted around while bound down in the chair. Electricity arched from some bodyparts.

"I...I thought you said she was a good guy." Sam stated, shocked.

"She is." Natasha insisted, her face blank. "She is the _best_ guy."

Steve was leaning with his forearms on his knees as he watched the screen. Anna was his best friend; he was trying to figure out what was going on in her head.

"She just killed seven people in cold blood!" Sam yelled, gesturing wildly to the laser screen.

"Well, uh, the guy in the chair isn't dead." TJ piped up. Sam looked at him doubtfully, and TJ typed for a moment. He fast forwarded through the rest of Anna holding Bucky, and her finally letting the HYDRA agent free.

"This is about three hours after they left." TJ explained, letting the images run.

The young agent Anna basically tortured was sitting limply on the chair. His legs were dangling over the edge. Heavily armed agents came in.

 _ **WHAT HAPPENED?**_ They asked, a few checking on the shot men along the wall.

 _ **NOTHING IS OFF LIMITS FOR HIM.**_ The agent said, staring blankly ahead.

 _ **WHAT?**_

 _ **NOTHING IS OFF LIMITS FOR HIM.**_ The agent said. _**NOTHING IS OFF LIMITS FOR IS OFF LIMITS FOR HIM. NOTHING IS OFF LIMITS FOR HIM. NOTHING IS OFF LIMITS FOR HIM. NOTHING IS OFF LIMITS FOR HIM. NOTHING IS OFF LIMITS FOR HIM.**_

"What the hell does that mean?" Sam asked as the agent began rambling over and over.

"Anna wouldn't do this." Natasha said lowly, her brows furrowing slightly.

"She'd do it for him." Steve spoke up. Everyone looked at the battered soldier. Technically, he should have still been in the hospital. But when Natasha came to visit him with the old school, practically obsolete beacon with a riddle that stumped him all through the fourth grade, he didn't really care.

"What?" TJ asked. "What do you mean?"

" _Nothing is off limits for him._ " Steve repeated. "It was a warning for HYDRA...Anna would do anything for Bucky."

"Even kill six men in cold blood." Natasha asked with a raised brow. She'd known Anna for a long time. Natasha used to think Anna's inability to kill the unarmed or in cold blood made her vulnerable, weak. It took a few years for her to realize that it didn't make her weak; it showed just how much self control Anna had.

"And wipe away everything in a man's head to leave a message." Steve said with a nod. "She'd to _anything_ for Bucky."


	18. Chapter 18: Alone Together

**Hello my cupcakes! The next chapter is up!**

 **The next chapter is going to be up sometime next week. Sorry. :(**

 **I have another story on here that's been terribly neglected, and I need to catch up on chapters here anyway. So, there's gonna be a little bit of a wait.**

 **Enjoy! ;)**

 **~Christiane**

* * *

 _"You cut me off, I lost my track_

 _It's not my fault, I'm a maniac  
It's not funny anymore, no it's not_

My heart is like a stallion  
They love it more when it's broke in  
Do you wanna feel beautiful?  
Do you wanna? Yeah!"

 _-Alone Together by Fall Out Boy_

* * *

Omniscient POV

Miles away in Brooklyn, James and Anna got back to Anna's apartment. He collapsed onto the sofa and fell asleep in seconds. Anna pulled a blanket over him, and sat in a chair across from him.

She had some blood spattered over her face and body, but she was thinking of other things. We'd taken a dozen or so boxes from the HYDRA stash, and we found three safe houses within a few block. They kept it simple; stole some bazookas from the stash HYDRA had, James did the firing and Anna did the driving. No civilian casualties, but a few blown eardrums; an acceptable loss for a few dozen dead HYDRA.

Anna sat up and cracked her neck.

She walked over and kissed James' hairline before going to her own bed. She peeled the sweaty tactical outfit off, and fell into her soft bed. The sheets were Egyptian cotton, more that 800 thread count, and the comforter was from some Spanish company Anna didn't remember. Her mattress was more expensive than anything else in her room. It had a lot of zeros, but it was just chunk change to Anna; in truth, she had more money than she knew what to do with.

* * *

Several hours later, James jerked awake at a sharp noise. The first thing he did was grab the long knife Anna had given him when he ran out of ammo.

The sharp that woke him was a scream. James winced and pressed the hand without the knife, the flesh one, to his forehead. His instincts were conflicting and bouncing around his head.

 _ **Ignore**_ _the screaming_.

 _ **Go**_ _to the screaming_.

His hand balled into a fist, about to slam it into his temple. Then he remembered Anna's wide, pleading brown eyes. _Replacing pain with different pain is not ok._

Slowly, his fingers stretched out from the tight fist. It shook as James put it to his temple, pressing hard. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, focusing not on what the various vices in his head told him to do, but what _he_ wanted to do.

 _He wanted to make sure Anna was alright._

It'd been about four seconds since the sharp scream had woken James, and he was running to Anna's bedroom with his gun. The door was already half open. He slammed his metal palm on the wood, making a deep divot in the wood.

It was Anna who was screaming.

Her small body was tense, one hand in a white-knuckled fist on her comforter, the other was wrapped around her pillow. Anna's face was pressed against the pillow, her breathing coming out harsh and sharp from her mouth and nose. James flinched when she screamed again; the gun falling to the ground with _thud_.

Anna jolted out of bed and looked around wildly, making her blonde braid swing around. When her eyes fell to James at the door, her whole body seemed to relax slightly. She, through heavy breathing, gave a small chuckle. "Just had to ruin my door, huh?"

James just looked at Anna, the crease between his brows deepening.

"You were screaming." He said a second later.

"Sorry." Anna said, stretching her arms over her head. James found himself looking at the strip of skin revealed when she did so; he saw three inches from the waistband of her cotton shorts to the hem of her shirt. It was flat and toned, her navel in the middle of his view. Her stomach was slightly paler than her face and arms. Suddenly, James found his gaze on the floor. One of the voices in his head was saying that he shouldn't look.

"I do that sometimes." Anna finished her thought, putting her arms down. "After missions, you know?"

James just blinked. "You...You were screaming."

Anna's eyes closed briefly as she took a breath. "Yeah," she said with a nod. "Yeah, I was..."

James' jaw clenched, and his fingers flexed out, then back into a fist, then back again. "I-I didn't like hearing you scream." He said, his voice low, confused and shaking.

"Hey," Anna said softly, pushing her covers back. She sat crosslegged, and patted the space next to her. James didn't move. "C'mere." Anna half-laughed; she wasn't sure if he was stubborn, or if he didn't know what she meant, and both were funny.

Slowly, James moved to sit on the edge of Anna's bed. Her mattress dipped under his weight, and the antique metal bed frame (it was the same bed frame she slept in when she went to her mother's parent's house in the south of France as a child) creaked slightly.

"Why don't you like hearing me scream?" Anna asked curiously, keeping her hands in her lap, even though they just wanted to touch him; hold his hand, rest one on his shoulder, just comfort him.

His jaw clenched. "It...It makes me _angry_...It-It makes me want to...It makes me want to _protect you_."

Hiding the hope that swelled in her chest, Anna nodded. "Only you can say how you feel, but what you described doesn't sound like anger to me."

"What is it?" James demanded. To Anna, he seemed almost childlike when it came to his emotions; he had the basic ones, happy, sad, scared, angry, disgust and surprise, but anything more than that Anna had to guide him through.

"When I screamed, you were _worried_ about me." Anna explained slowly. James blinked at her.

"You don't want me to get hurt." She added. "You care about me and my well being. You have to, or I can't help you."

James' brow was still furrowed, but his eyes sparked with realization. The spark as dim and dull, but it was there. "I care about you."

Smiling, Anna nodded. "Yeah, you care about me and my well being. You have to, or I can't help you. Do you understand?"

"I care about you." James said again.

Anna furrowed her own brows. "If you don't, I can't help-"

"I care about you." James cut her off. His fists were pressed hard to his thighs, and his gaze was locked on the gun by the door.

"Ok." Anna said softly, smiling just a little. "That's ok."

"I care about you." James said again.

Anna nodded, and leaned over to press a soft kiss to the long hair over his temple. "Go to sleep, James." She said softly in his ear.

He obediently stood, picked up the gun and left Anna's bedroom and went to his own. He could feel his tired muscles and aching head somehow overpower his instincts to sleep by the door. He went to the bed, pulled off his boots, socks and shirts before getting under the fluffy, warm covers.

When Anna kissed his head, there had been an explosion of warmth that started in his stomach and flooded over his entire body, even his metal arm.

As his eyes began to close, he added a new thing to the list of things he _knew_ were real.

 _I care about Anna._

* * *

It was early the next morning that Anna was woken by a loud sound. She, like when James dropped the gun, jolted up and looked around. It was trash day, and figured it was the garbage truck dumping the massive bin.

Her bedroom was the same as when she went to sleep after talking with James. It was like the night after Bucky told her he loved her; her heart pounded and her face couldn't stop smiling.

She knew that James wasn't Bucky, but Bucky was in there somewhere. He was somewhere in the psychotic, brainwashed killed asleep in her guest room, clawing and fighting to get out. The more time she spent with James, the more she realized that there was absolutely nothing she wouldn't do for James. Whether it be killing some unarmed HYDRA, or loving him like this, Anna would do it.

"Hey Jimmy!" Anna called, running a hand through her almost-curly hair as she got out of bed. "How 'bout we get some pancakes before we head to that HYDRA holding in New Hampshire?"

Anna got to in front of James' closed door, and didn't hear anything. She knocked a few times. "James? You awake yet?"

After getting no responce, Anna pushed the door open. The bed was slept in, and there were clothes on the floor, but James wasn't there. He wasn't in the bathroom or hers. She ran to the kitchen and living room; no James.

"Damnit!" Anna cursed, smacking a hand on the fridge. She saw her vault door cracked. To close it, you really had to shove it until you heard the second click.

Inside her weapons cashe, she saw more than half of it gone. She went to her laptop, and clicked through security cameras until she got to the garage. James was wearing some clothes from Steve's dresser and a hat, one glove over his left hand and had three bags with him.

Anan grabbed her own go bag, threw in her bandana and a few grenades, and ran to the elevator in the hall. As it went down from the eighth floor, Anna pulled off her cotton shorts, got into a pair of jeans from her bag, pulled a thermal over her tanktop, and tied the boots she'd grabbed from by her door.

"Hey!" She yelled sharply. Her voice echoed through the parking garage as she walked over to James.

Anna had a pissed off look on her face that even James didn't like being on the receiving end of. Part of him thought about how a normal person would perceive the terrifying expression, and was amused by it. Another felt bad for the poor person.

"Where the _hell_ do you think you're going?" She half-yelled once she got in front of James. she tossed her bag down next to his, cocked her hip and crossed her arms.

James just blinked. "I'm...I'm going to take down HYDRA."

" _Without_ me?" Anna asked incredulously.

James nodded once. "Yes."

"No you're not." Anna said simply, leaving no room for argument. "You care about me, I care about you. People who care about each other don't let them go off to take down HYDRA alone!"

James pinched his eyes shut, and pressed his flesh hand to his forehead as he mumbled.

"What?" Anna asked. She didn't hear him.

" _You don't care about me!_ " James yelled at her. He had yelled at her once before, when he showed himself in her kitchen. She'd been startled and surprised then. He was used to seeing fear in the eyes of those he yelled at; there wasn't a touch of fear in Anna's eyes.

"You don't care about me." James said again, lowering his voice. "You-You want _him_ back!"

"Yeah, I do." Anna snapped back. "I want Bucky Barnes back because I love him so _desperately_ and so _completely_ that _I love you_ _ **just like**_ _I love him_! You say you want to undo what they did, and until you do, you're not going to be able understand _why_ I'm helping you. You just have to trust that _I am_ helping you, because I'm the _only one_ you have."

James had closed his eyes as Anna spoke. He gripped his temples with his hands, pressing hard as he tried to focus on just _one_ instinct.

Anna grabbed his face in her hands; his senses were in overdrive more than usual, as half his instincts told him to take in every detail of his surroundings so he was in control of the situation.

Her warm, smooth palms cupped his jaw which was half-hidden under a slight beard. Her slim fingers brushed over his skin and her thumbs seared on his cheekbones. James' eyes snapped open, and he looked down at the small woman in front of him. He'd seen how strong and deadly she could be; one voice told him to end her here, the other saw her as a delicate, feminine, beautiful creature that needed to be protected at all costs. Her eyes were a brown that none of the languages he knew had a word to describe; they were strong, pure and held no fear.

Slowly, James' hand came up to slowly, gently wrap around Anna's wrist. The other pressed to the back of her other hand, holding it to his face. He wouldn't force her to pull away, but he wanted Anna's hands there as long as they could be.

"James," Anna said in a low, strong voice. His eyes were watching how her lips moved.

"Hey," Anna said, trying to get his attention by tapping her pinky on his neck. James' gaze went up from her lips to over her delicate, smooth nose to her wide, lash framed eyes.

"You have to stop pushing me away." Anna told him. His metal hand was pressing along the back of her hand, keeping it to his cheek. "You don't have to pull me in, but you can't keep shoving me back."

"You can't be close." James mumbled, barely moving his lips. "You-You can't get close-"

"I didn't let Bucky tell me where I can and can't be, and you're not going to either." Anna cut him off. He flinched when called 'Bucky.' "I'm a tough girl, James. Now what are you going to do?"

James realized his metal hand was against Anna's. Even though it was covered in a leather glove he found in the back of a closet, it wasn't good enough. He pulled it away quickly, with his other hand, and took a step back. His back his the side of the gray SUV he was about to unlock; he took the keys from the tack board in Anna's vault.

"I-I'm going to take out HYDRA... _alone_." James said lowly, throwing his bags in the trunk, then getting in the drivers seat.

He hid his surprise well as Anna opened the back door, threw her own bag in, then got in the passenger's seat and buckled her seat belt.

"What are you doing?" James asked, more confused than angry.

"I'm going after HYDRA." Anna said simply. She's taken the visor down from the top of the car and was using the mirror to pull her blonde hair into a ponytail. After she flipped it back up, she gave James a mischievous smile. The first word that came to James' mind about the smile was _coy_.

" _Alone_." She added, sitting back in the buttery leather seat. Idly, she thought about how she should drive her larger vehicles more. Yes, her sports cars went a lot faster, but the SUVs were much more luxurious.

"No." James said, his mouth turning down in the slightest frown. "I'm going after HYDRA alone."

Anna used the remote to open up the garage door, and looked back at James. "Well, then we're _both_ going after HYDRA alone."

* * *

 _"I don't know where you're going  
_ _But do you got room for one more troubled soul?  
_ _I don't know where I'm going  
_ _But I don't think I'm coming home and I said  
_ _I'll check in tomorrow if I don't wake up dead  
_ _This is the road to ruin  
_ _And we're starting at the end"_


	19. Chapter 19: The Ragtag Team

**Ok, first I want to say it's literally been years since I've seen any other X-Men movie other than First Class, and my older-Charles Xavier isn't as in-character as I would like. So, be gentle, ok? And, I have to say, a little OOC never really hurt anybody.**

 **I'm sorry it took so long to post again. I have a lot of stuff going on, and I thought I'd make is up by posting an extra big chapter. :)**

 **Also, Ellie's past is cleared up a little. It ended up a little darker than I meant to.**

 **I wrote none of Ellie's poetry. The ones I chose for this chapter didn't have authors listed, but when I use some that do, I'll give them credit.**

 **~Christianne**

 ***UNEDITED***

* * *

 **Warning: Brief mentions of self-harm, kinda hard to explain...But, I guess, you've been warned.**

* * *

Anna POV

 **1979**

 _"Make sure to get all the files_ _ **and**_ _all the crap from the lab!" I yelled through the concrete building to the fifty or so S.H.I.E.L.D. agents collecting evidence._

 _In the past few months, there had been an excess of powdered people; nothing I wasn't already familiar with. I helped Charlie get students for the school of his from other, obscure countries during my travels for S.H.I.E.L.D. I asked Charlie to take a look into it, and he said that there were no mutants with the powers I was seeing (pyrokinesis, weak telepathy, super strength ect, ect) in Eastern Europe._

 _They were_ _ **synthetic**_ _mutants._

 _From what we know, now that we'd taken the base in Serbia, is that they went to orphanages all over the USSR and looked for healthy, strong, obedient young adults who were willing to let themselves be pumped full of drugs to change their biology. A few higher-ups wanted to recruit the scientists to try and replicate the serum from Project: Rebirth, but when Peggy, Howard and myself all put our foot down there was no chance it'd happen._

 _I heard some screams and yells from where we'd detained the remaining enhanced people. We'd killed seven, and there were ten more; they could do anything from bend any material like it was rubber and manipulate the air, to find things telepathically and have night vision when their eyes were closed. None of them were older than 25._

 _This was my operation; I called the shots. Of the fifty plus agents I had with me, I ordered every single one of them not to fire a single shot at any of them. It took a few hours, but we rounded them all up and put them in their perspective metal and cement dorms (the looked like cells more than dorms to me). They weren't in pain; they'd been screaming, growling and snarling like wild animals since we forced them in their rooms._

 _"So, what's the plan with them?" Jimmy asked, walking over to lean on the railing next to me. There was a second floor to the building with the big offices; there was a platform that overlooked the labs, training areas and main enhanced quarters. There were only a few places that couldn't be seen up here._

 _"There's no plan for_ _ **all**_ _of them." I admitted. "Once they calm down, I'll offer them all a place at Charlie's school. The ones that don't accept...then they'll be S.H.I.E.L.D.'s problem."_

 _"Doesn't sound like you, Auntie." Jimmy admitted, looking over the railing down at the agents working on the files and lab supplies. "You usually want to save everyone."_

 _"Yeah, well..." I shrugged. "If you expect to save everyone, you're disappointed when you do. If you expect to save no one and save a few, then you're happy."_

 _Jimmy laughed once. "An optimistic view on pessimism."_

 _I rolled my eyes at him and shoved his shoulder lightly. Jimmy was in his early 30s now, but didn't look a day over 25. It was a joke between us that maybe he wasn't going to age either. But I saw the seldom silver hair along his temples or the wrinkling starting around his eyes; he'd get older, just like Howard, Peggy, Rebecca, Ian...Just like everybody else but me._

 _I'd heard Jimmy talk about an offer to run the Honolulu office. It was boring desk work that Jimmy usually avoided like the plague, but he'd be able to take JJ to school and pick him up after baseball practice, be there for Sunday dinners at Rebecca and Ian's, and have more vacation time. He told me he wasn't going to take it; he loved the field too much._

 _I knew he would, though. Eventually, all my partners move on to other things. In this case, Jimmy was going to spend his days wearing Hawaiian shirts to work instead of tactical gear, be writing reports instead of testing out new ones and spending time with his son instead of his 25-looking-actually-61_ _ **almost**_ _aunt._

 _The building shook._

 _Dust and a few small chunks of the cement ceiling rained down on us. The agents below yelled more than they had been. The powered people in their cement cells started laughing, screaming to us in various Eastern European languages; Estonian, Russian, Serbian, Romanian and I think I heard a few Roma dialects in there. We'd regret stopping their work, we'd pay for killing their brothers and sisters, yada yada_ _ **yada**_ _._

 _The building shook again, but it was followed by a pulse that made everything falling stop mid air. Slowly, I reached out and touched a concrete shard that was about to fall on my face. The pulse, which had reminded me of the one from right before an atomic, hydrogen or nuclear bomb really went off, made everyone scream more._

 _"Secure the kids." I said, inferring the powered people._

 _"Yes ma'am." Jimmy nodded once, smirking running towards the stairs as he checked the clip in his hand gun. He knew I only liked being called 'ma'am' out of fear or respect. Jimmy pushed a cake in my face at JJ's last birthday party, so his respect was professional only, which meant I didn't like him calling me 'ma'am.'_

 _Instead of moving, I waited. If this was a machine of some kind, another pulse would be coming in a few seconds. If the powered people were right, and it was a person, I should be able to pick a general direction._

 _Sure enough, another pulse came seven seconds later than it should. It passed through me from back to front; I took off in the other direction as Jimmy, towards the offices._

 _There was one heavy, reinforced steel door amongst the other sliding aluminum ones. I opened it slowly, revealing a steep set of stairs. There was no railing, so when more shockwaves came I had to brace my shoulder on the wall, squat closer to the steps, hold my gun tighter and pray I didn't go flying head first._

 _I made it to the bottom after seven more stupid unbalancing waves, and looked behind me. I couldn't see the door anymore; I had to be at least 50 feet down, if not more._

 _There was another heavy door at the bottom. The one at the top looked like the sealing door on a Navy ship, this one looked like a vault door without a combination. There was just a simple keyhole, and what looked like a small metal flap on the bottom of the door, like in high security prisons to feed those in solitary confinement; a tray was slid through on the floor. There were two locks on it._

 _I took two bobby pins from my hair (they were keeping a few flyaways out of my face) and got to work on the lock to the big door._

 _Ten minutes later, I had four mangled pins and an unlocked door. I kicked my pins to the side and took my gun again. Slowly, I opened the door._

 _A gust of chilly air whooshed past my face, making the free flyaways tickle my face as I looked around the room. There was a small cot in one corner, with a thin, dirty quilt and a single flat pillow on it. A disgusting toilet similar to those in a prison; the sink was on the top of the toilet basin. A single folding chair was on the floor to the side of the room. A few scraps of paper, what looked like a few stubby crayons and a shard of rock littered the floor. There was a single light bulb in the center of the ceiling, surrounded by a case of thick, dirty glass, making it even dimmer in the room than it was. The pull chain for the bulb was encased in rubber and sealed to the glass._

 _I didn't see anyone._

 _I pushed the door all the way open, making it hit that wall behind it. The metallic slam elicited a sharp gasp followed by stuttered breathing. I put my gun up again, and looked around the room._

 _There was about three feet between the end of the cot and the adjacent wall. In that small space, a small person was curled up in a ball. I couldn't tell if it was a girl or a boy. They looked like they were wearing hospital scrubs; thin baggy pants and short sleeved shirt. Their legs were bent, knees pressed to their chest and thin, dirty arms wrapped around them. A head of unkempt dark brown hair was pressed tightly against their knees. Their shoulders were raising and falling quickly, in time with the choked, stuttered, wheezing breathing I heard. The sounds stopped, before a heavy exhale brought another shockwave._

 _It threw me to the wall, and I winced as my head cracked against the concrete._

 _I righted myself, and looked down at the shaking child on the floor. Briefly, a few memories from special children the Nazis experimented flashed through my mind. This wasn't_ _ **totally**_ _different, so I did the same thing I did then._

 _Slowly, I lowered myself to the floor, sitting crosslegged on the other side of the cell from the wheezing kid. The cell was smaller than the ones the special kids at Auschwitz were confined to; those were usually ten by ten. This one was more like six by eight._

 _I took out my gun and began disassembling it. I could do this, clean it and put it back together in less than a minute, but I did it slowly now. I put each part, starting with the clip, on the cold concrete floor. They hit with a soft tap, which became rhythmic as I went through the motions. When I was done, I rested my elbows on my knees and watched the balled up child._

 _"My name is Anna." I said casually, bracing myself when the breathing stuttered. The shockwave knocked the neat row of handgun parts out of the neat lines they'd been in._

 _Ever so slowly, the head raised up. It was a girl, and she was older than I thought. My guess was no older than ten, but she looked like she was in her mid-teens._

 _She was small, skinny, really. Her face was as dirty and sweaty as her arms. Dust, dirt and sweat were smeared over her sharp cheekbones and her lips were trembling. Her hair was snarled and greasy, her skin was pallid and waxy, her lips were chapped and bitten, but her eyes were a shocking green._

 _I couldn't hold in a smile._

 _ **They hadn't broken her yet.**_

 _"My name is Anna." I said again. "What's your name?"_

 _She squeezed her legs tighter and looked down at the worn fabric that covered her skinny knees. She shook her head, making greasy strands of hair fall in her face. When she raised a hand to push it back behind her ear, my eyes locked onto her wrist._

 _There were thick scars along her inner wrist. They overlapped and crisscrossed each other, making a disgusting pinkish pattern over her wrist. My mind snapped to the shard of rock I'd seen earlier._

 _"Do you have a name?" I asked gently. "Did they give you a different one?"_

 _She shook her head again, more forcefully this time. She'd replaced her hand over her other forearm, holding her legs._

 _I smiled and gave one soft laugh. "Well, sweetie, I need something to call you."_

 _She just shook her head again. Though her breathing had evened out, I saw how heavily her chest was moving and the sound that rattled her lungs._

 _"_ _ **Anna? Do you copy?**_ _" Jimmy's voice crackled through the radio on my belt._

 _Without looking away from the girl, I took my radio and brought it closer to my mouth. "Hey J...I'm in a basement cell. The door to it is open, next to the third office. Bring me a bottle of water, open can of something and a spoon." After that, I turned the volume on my radio all the way down and put it to the side._

 _"You know, it's Eleanor Roosevelt's birthday tomorrow," I said idly. The green eyes hadn't looked at me since she tucked hair behind her ear. "How 'bout I call you Ellie?"_

 _Her face wasn't pressed to her knees anymore; I saw her cheek twitch._

 _We sat in silence until I heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Jimmy soon came into view; he had a bottle of water under one arm and a can of chicken noodle soup with a spoon sticking out of it in one hand, his other hand held his drawn gun._

 _He was about to say something, then he saw Ellie in the corner. "Who's she?" He asked me._

 _I smiled and looked at her. "Go on," I prompted. "Tell him who you are."_

 _After swallowing hard, and taking a few more labored breaths, she spoke. "E-El...Ellie."_

 _Jimmy's brow furrowed, and he glanced at me. I gave him a look, and he slowly approached Ellie. He set the can and water a foot or so in front of her, then sat next to me on the ground. He stretched his legs out in front of him and crossed his ankles._

 _Ellie looked at the food apprehensively. She stretched out one thin, shaking arm to take the can of soup. I tensed at the identical pattern of scars on Ellie's other wrist; one in the middle of her forearm was stitched up with black thread. After one slow bite, she began taking soup from the can at a steady pace._

 _"You know, I have a son about your age, Ellie." Jimmy spoke up when she was halfway through the can. He dug in his tactical vest and took out a picture; JJ and him at JJ's last baseball game._

 _Ellie took a drink from her soup can, and scratched her thumb nail over the red_ _ **Campbell's**_ _label. "They t-took...me from...from Si-Siber...Siberia."_

 _Before, when she said her name, I thought she was stuttering because she was scared (and, to cover all bases, possibly because she thought Jimmy was cute). It was because she couldn't breathe well enough to say a full sentence._

 _"Can you take a drink of water for me, Ellie?" I asked softly. This tiny room was cold and damp, with standing air; an asthmatics nightmare._

 _She hugged the soup can to her chest with one hand, and slowly reached for the water bottle. Ellie's brows furrowed slightly at the plastic cap._

 _"Here, I'll open it for you," Jimmy said, about to get up._

 _Ellie shook her head and put her soup can down. She held her left arm out over her knee; the scars I saw before were layered thicker at her wrist, but extended up past her elbow until they disappeared under the sleeve of her thin shirt. They were straight and uniform for the first few inches, like they were made by a knife. Mid-forearm and up they were thicker, deeper, jagged, torn, crude cuts. Ellie gripped the soft flesh over the crease of her elbow with her right hand; there was another stitched gash. Her nails were jagged and bitten, and clawed into the scar tissue and thread._

 _"Ellie, what are you doing?" I asked slowly._

 _She shook her head. "It...It's...It's al..alright."_

 _Ellie turned her arm left, outwards, while her right pulled down. She whimpered softly as her nails tore through the scarred skin ripped the stitches out. She shook the threads from her fingers, and pressed her nails into it._

 _Jimmy and I watched in hidden horror, but my gaze went to the vibrating water bottle. The plastic cap vibrated fast before disintegrating before my eyes into nothing._

 _Ellie calmly tucked her arms close to her again and took the water bottle. She looked between Jimmy and I with wide green eyes. They weren't quite scared, more hesitant. "Wha-What...What did I...d-do?"_

 _I couldn't get words out._

 _"Ellie, you shouldn't do that." Jimmy said finally._

 _"Why?" She asked, frowning. "It-It...ma-makes it...easier..."_

 _Ellie took a labored breath. "Does...Doesn't ev-...every...one...do that...to-to get..get it to...to work?"_

 _"Get what to work?" I asked._

 _"The-The magic." Ellie answered, like it was obvious. Jimmy and I gave her almost identical confused looks. "Every...Everyone...I've me-met...has-has ma-...magic."_

 _Realizing she meant the synthetic mutation, I nodded. "No, not everyone has magic."_

 _"Oh..." She said sadly, clutching the soup can again. "Am...Am I...going-going to...another...cell?"_

 _I stood and walked closer to Ellie. I squatted a foot or so from her, giving her a soft smile. "You never need to be in a cell again." I told her honestly._

 _After Ellie cleaned out the soup can and downed the water bottle, I helped her stand up. I frowned at her bare feet, thinking it'd be hard for her to walk outside to a truck, but she could barely walk anyway. I peeled off my tactical jacket and pulled over her shoulders before Jimmy pulled one of her small arms over his shoulders while his other arm went around her waist. I did the same with her other arm and we all started up the steps._

 _We made it through the offices, down the steps and were only a few hundred feet from the door when the other enhanced kids began screaming, yelling and snarling at Ellie. She pushed our arms away, and walked on unsteady feet towards the concrete dorms. The captured scientists were locked up in one of the cells from a dead enhanced._

 _Ellie walked to the dormitory, and pressed her dirty hand against the thick glass. The men in lab coats were yelling at her in Russian and other dialects, but all Ellie did in response was frown. Keeping my jacket over her shoulders, she crossed her arms. When I saw the terrified looks on the men's faces, I realized what she was doing._

 _"_ _ **Ellie no-!**_ _"_

 _It was too late. The men were already disintegrating to nothing, screaming as they saw their bodies taken apart particle by particle and blown into the air. By the time they were all dead, Ellie had taken a few steps back, her left hand digging into her right wrist. The twelve enhanced young people we'd taken into custody were screaming in pain as the same terrifying disintegration happened to them._

 _Ellie had been ignoring (or wasn't aware of) the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents with their guns drawn making a tighter circle around her. Once the last one was dead, Ellie took her nails off her arm. They were bloody and shaking. She looked away from the dead enhanced, and finally took note of the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents yelling around her._

 _Jimmy and I yelled for them to stand down, but it was no use. One agent fired a shot, and it nicked Ellie on the shoulder. She gasped in pain, and stumbled back to the glass of a dorm._

 _"_ _ **Get down!**_ _" Jimmy yelled, grabbing the back of my neck and yanking me towards an overturned lab table._

 _This wasn't a shock wave. This was a_ _ **blast**_ _. It was a sharp, eardrum shattering noise that knocked the breath out of me. It was long too. Instead of an instantaneous boom, it was a continuous noise that never seemed to end; almost like a rocket taking off. Until it did._

 _I peeked over the table and saw Ellie balled up against the glass again. I was at least twenty feet away and I swear I could hear her wheezing breaths._

 _There had been ten agents around Ellie before she let loose what ever power she had. Now, there were just piles of this weird, ashy goo._

 _"Call S.H.I.E.L.D." I ordered Jimmy, barely moving from behind the table. "Tell Fury that every powered kid was killed."_

 _Jimmy looked at me wide eyed, then glanced at Ellie. "You're going to_ _ **kill her**_ _?"_

 _I shook my head. "After you call Fury, call Charlie...Tell 'im he might need the bunker with this one."_

 _Jimmy knew about Charles Xavier's school in Westchester; JJ spent his summers there. He had a mild mutation; kinetic absorption, which basically meant if you punched him, he'd punch you back with his own strength plus between 60 and 85% of the strength from the initial punch._

 _"You're going to_ _ **lie**_ _to_ _ **S.H.I.E.L.D.**_ _?" Jimmy asked, shocked._

 _I stood up, brushing off my pants. As I headed to the doors to get Ellie a real outfit and some shoes, I yelled over my shoulder._

 _"_ _ **It's not the first time, Jimmy. And unless things change, it won't be the last!**_ _"_

* * *

Omniscient POV

Laura was putting clean cutlery from the dishwasher into the drawer when she heard the phone ring. Without looking, she picked the landline up off the wall and put it to her ear. "Hello?"

All she heard was dial tone. Then, the phone rang again. She frowned and put the phone back on the wall, and checked her cellphone, which was, some how, under all the clean and folded clothes in the basket. It wasn't ringing either.

Vaguely remembering Anna's last visit, Laura dug around the junk drawer and pulled out a sat. phone. The number was blocked, and she sighed. She should have known Anna would call Clint back out; it'd been months since they'd heard from her.

"Hey Coop," Laura called through the kitchen window. Her son popped his head up through the window; he'd been sneaking some cookies on the porch before dinner and was ready for his mom to yell at him. She held the sat. phone out to him. "Bring this to your dad."

"Ok." He agreed quickly, kicking the paper towel with the remaining cookie off the porch. Cooper didn't answer the phone (he knew better after last time) and jogged towards the barn where his father was working on the tractor.

"Dad! I have the sat. phone for you!" He yelled as he got to the barn. Cooper frowned as he looked at the empty barn.

Lila looked over the edge of the hayloft; she and Cooper took turns playing in it. "He fixed the tractor." She called down. She gave a happy gasp when she saw the sat. phone in Coop's hand. "Is Abie calling? I wanna say hi!" She said, starting to climb down the sturdy steps their dad put in.

"No! You know the rules!" Cooper said, holding the ringing phone tighter. "We can't talk to her 'till dad does!"

Before Lila got to the ground, Cooper was already running to the field. Some of it was cut down, barely two rows. Coop could see his father tinkering with the engine in the field.

"Dad!" Cooper yelled, running towards him. "Dad! It's Abie!"

Clint took the phone from his son, and mussed his hair as he flipped the big antenna up. He lightly smacked his son's back, pushing him towards the house.

"Haven't heard from you in ages." Clint said as he answered the call.

" _...Sorry._ " Anna said on the other line. " _Remember that favor I asked you for in Tibet?_ "

Clint frowned. Tibet was his first field mission with Anna way-back-when, and no part of it was good. "Yeah, why?"

" _I thought you could take Lila, Coop and Laura...Make a weekend out of it._ "

Clint threw down the wrench he was holding, and lowered his voice even though no one was around to hear him. "You're going to put a bullet in your brain and you want me to make a weekend of it with my wife and kids to pack up your apartment and go to your funeral?"

Anna groaned. " _I'm not gonna_ _ **kill myself**_ _, Clint. Chill a little, will 'ya? I just need everything in my apartment packed up, because as of noon yesterday I technically ever lived there._ "

Rubbing his face and not caring he was getting grease all over it, Clint stayed quiet.

" _You guys can stay in my penthouse on Fifth,_ " Anna offered, sounding almost desperate. " _I have credit at a bunch of stores Laura could shop at, there's a day camp at the building run by an exagent, so Coop and Lila can see the city..._ "

Clint leaned against the tractor. "What about a car?" He was only half-kidding.

" _I figured Laura and the kids would get a kick out of getting to the penthouse via limo. There'll be a Mercedes in the garage. Four-door. Gets up to 250 mph. Use it when you're in the city, leave it at the airport_."

Clint laughed once, then sighed. "I'm guessing you already got the tickets."

" _First class. Leaves early tomorrow, seven am, but the tickets are open ended, so you can stay as long as you want._ " Anna explained quickly. " _I figure it'd take a day for you to pack up my place, and the concierge, Phillip, can set up something super romantic for you and Laura._ "

"Since when are you this nice to me?" Clint laughed.

" _Since...Clint you can't tell anybody what you're doing._ " Anna said pleadingly. Ignoring Clint's scoff, she kept talking. " _Not Phil, Fury, Tasha, Steve—_ _ **especially**_ _Steve—Clint nobody can know._ "

"Ok," Clint said, nodding once. "Ok...I'll do it."

" _Thank you._ "

Clint was already walking back to his house; he needed to find the suitcases. "You've done enough for me, no questions asked...Figured it was about time I started paying you back."

" _Thanks Clint._ " Anna said, then hung up.

* * *

Omniscient POV

 _Even from far away,  
You could see it.  
They were drunk.  
But not from any kind of beverage.  
They were drunk off each other.  
The way they laughed,  
The way they kept sneaking glances,  
Even though they both knew,  
That the other one was looking too,  
The way they curled into each other,  
With a nervousness,  
Hidden behind subtle excitement.  
Even from far away,  
You could see it.  
They found each other,  
Utterly intoxicating._

A knock on Ellie's door made her jump. "Ellenore? May I have a word?"

"Yeah...C'mon in." She sighed. Her door opened, and a man in a wheelchair entered. The door closed behind him.

"Are you writing again?" Charles Xavier asked, eyeing how Ellie's small shoulders were hunched over her desk.

She nodded, answering his question, but not turning to look at the professor.

"This is one of my favorites. I was wondering when you were going to write it down." Charles said, seeing the poem in Ellie's mind; the same poem he'd been seeing for a week or so.

"It's about Bucky and Anna." Ellie said softly, scribbling on a corner of the notebook. "I wanted to make sure the ending was perfect before I wrote it down."

The small brunette turned around in her desk chair and played with the end of her braid. She looked around her bedroom. It was almost exactly the same as when she first moved in. Even when she had an episode and destroyed something, it was replaced and fixed with an exact copy.

"How long have you been here, Ellenore?" Charles asked.

"Not long enough for you to call me Ellie...I guess." Ellie mumbled, frowning.

 _Ellenore..._ Ellie heard the professor sigh in her head, sounding like disapproving parent.

"Since 1980." She added with a deeper frown.

"And how long ago did Dr. Florence tell you that personalizing your bedroom might help your mental state?" Charles asked, watching Ellie's wide blank eyes with slight concern. She was the first student to live at the estate permanently, and after more than twenty years, there had been very little progress in helping Ellie control her vast power.

While agencies like S.H.I.E.L.D. thought Ellie had multiple abilities, she really only had one; _manipulation_. Ellie manipulated anything with molecules, atoms or _matter_ or any kind. She could turn a wooden chair to steel, excite atoms in midair to start a fire (a real problem during allergy season; Storm used to go everywhere with Ellie to put out the fires she started with her small, mouse like sneezes), turn her pillow to coal with a bad dream; but Ellie's real power came from the ability to _create_ new matter, something that broke every law of physics.

"I don't care if my room is _personalized_." Ellie sighed, playing with her braid. _It's just going to get destroyed anyway._

"That's not definite, Ellenore." Charles said, countering her thoughts outloud. "When Anna injected you with Captain Rogers' blood, you've had no more episodes."

"I know." Ellie nodded, frowning. "I don't need my glasses anymore either."

Charles chuckled briefly, glancing at the black glasses on Ellie's bookshelf; there was a large crack in one lense.

"Kitty can help you pick out a new paint color." Charles said after a moment. He looked around the pale beige room. "This is quite faded now."

"Don't bother her...She has classes, right?" Ellie asked, looking at the bald professor.

"Yes, but I'm sure she wouldn't mind taking time to drive you."

"I can _drive a car_ , professor." Ellie frowned, standing up. She put the notebook on her bookshelf, and pulled an identical new one from a cardboard box on the floor.

Charles said nothing as Ellie went to sit on her large bed with the notebook. She took a pen from her nightstand, turned to the first page and started to write.

The bald professor went to the bookshelf and examined the spines of the books. There were massive oak shelves eight feet tall over two walls of Ellie's bedroom. Most were full of bound notebooks that Ellie filled up with her writings. Smiling slightly, the professor took a particularly worn book off a bottom shelf. He opened it up and flipped through the acid free paper until he got to a specific poem.

"This is one of my favorites," he told her, wheeling himself to the side of Ellie's bed and putting the notebook next to her.

Normally, he wasn't so involved in the personal lives of his students. But Ellie had been here so long, she's made such _little_ progress for a girl trying to hard; it was hard not to be sympathetic, especially when Charles knew exactly what kind of frustration, depression and fear she felt every day.

Ellie glanced at it and nodded.

 _You think you can define me,  
That I'm a tick in just one box,  
_ _Like my being is a door,  
_ _That a single key unlocks,  
_ _But let me tell you something,  
_ _I have the universe inside me,  
_ _I hold an untamed ocean,  
_ _With a constant changing tide,  
_ _I'm home to endless mountains,  
_ _With tips that touch the sky,  
_ _Flocks of grand migrating birds,  
_ _And deserts harsh and dry,  
_ _I house the wildest rivers,  
_ _And host of sweeping plains,  
_ _I feel the waves of sunshine,  
_ _Or in unrelenting rain,  
_ _Don't tell me that you know me,  
_ _That 'this right here is what you are,'  
_ _I am the universe in motion,  
_ _I was born from the stars._

"That was the first poem the voice told me to write." Ellie mumbled, focused on the page in front of her.

There was a small voice in the back of Ellie's mind that gave her her poetry. Charles had heard a lot about it through the years, but when he looked into her mind he never heard it. No telepath heard the voice in Ellie's mind. Some thought she made it up, but that caused more harm than good; it was better to help her with the voice than find the cause.

"Has it spoken to you lately?" Charles asked; before New York Ellie would compulsively write to the voice just a few times a month. But after New York, it was sometimes days and days before she'd leave her room.

Ellie nodded. "It's in my dreams now...There are _images_ with the poems."

She sat back slightly at her latest poem; this one had just been whispered to her as she wrote. Ellie didn't think about it at all.

 _I feel a longing,  
_ _Deep in my ribcage.  
_ _I long for the things,  
_ _That I cannot have.  
_ _The lovers I will never meet.  
_ _The eyes I will never see.  
_ _The lips I will never kiss.  
_ _The hands I will never hold.  
_ _The adventures I will never partake in.  
_ _The sunsets I will never watch.  
_ _The memories I will never live.  
_ _The stories I will never tell.  
_ _I long for the life I do not live._

"Have you heard from Anna lately?" Charles asked, making Elle shrug. The professor saw images flash in Ellie's head of the last time she saw Anna; the day she dropped her and Agent Ollie Maxwell off.

"Why?" Ellie asked, looking up from her notebook.

Charles took a breath, debating if he should tell her what he'd been told on the phone by Captain Rogers moments before he went to her. Ellie was... _delicute_. After she came to the school in 1980, it was only months later that Charles gained her trust and she allowed him into her mind.

She'd been experimented on briefly, but then she was locked in the small cold cell for years when just a sliver of her power was exposed. She'd been in the same mindset as Erik when Charles met him years before; they were taught pain and anger to unlock their power. Erik's pain and anger were metal, he tortured himself with horrifying memories from his time as a child with Sebastian Shaw.

Ellie needed physical pain. It'd started as a punishment, a deep gash in the wrist for disobedience, but soon became regular pain. Every now and then, she would be restrained and sliced along her arm, then stitched her up. They wore protective suits and were behind steel when Ellie's power was exposed, usually when they wanted to kill unwanted visitors. Once Ellie figured out how to access her power, she began ripping out stitches, using the plastic knifes, forks and spoons she was given with her food and shards of concrete to cut and bloody her skin. Eventually she used her bare nails to rip her skin.

Dr. Imogene Florence was a former student; an empath. She only attended for a few summers when she was a teenager. Unless the empath mutation is paired with another, it is a relatively common and weak mutation. She became a therapist, and was a frequent face at the school to help students adjust, or to just be an understanding ear. Imogene spoke with Ellie the day after she arrived, and told Charles that while her mutation was powerful and needed as much help as she could get, Ellie really needed to be in an institution where she could get 24 hour attention and the right kind of medication for major depression disorder; she couldn't begin to understand and control her mutation if she wasn't in a good, positive mindset.

So, Ellie went to the best institution in the state. She stayed for three days, and ended up being worse than when she left Serbia with Anna. The medications had no effect on her and the therapy sessions weren't effective. The hospital suggested ECT (Electroconvulsive therapy), but with what Anna told Charles, it would more likely kill more people instead of helping Ellie.

She returned to the school, and that's when she started writing. Within the first few weeks, Ellie filled up dozens of notebooks with poetry. It seemed like after five years or so that Ellie as improving. She was attending more classes and interacting with a small handful of students, and she seemed more in control of her mutation; it looked like Ellie was _happy_.

Within a month of Ellie's new attitude, Anna came to visit. She found a small pocket knife under Ellie's mattress. She'd began slashing her arms again to have control over her own body. That was 1987. As the years went by, Ellie's mindset had taken only a small step towards mental health, but her power had taken massive leaps. It as rare now that she had any accidental manipulations; her control was impressive. But the control was limited to keeping her abilities hidden. Once she started, she had no control whatsoever.

It was ten or fifteen years after she arrived that Ellie told Charles about the voice.

"Have you tried to control these images?" The professor asked.

Ellie shook her head. "After I saw the monks, and learned to meditate, they're more vivid... _Scary_."

"You've survived experimentation and imprisonment, Ellenore." Charles reminded her. "What you see in your own mind can not be worse than what you've lived through."

Ellie frowned. He did that a lot. Whenever she was scared or apprehensive about something, he brought up how she'd been through worse. "Yeah," she admitted. "But this is a different kind of scary...I-I would rather go-go back to Serbia that see them."

This concerned Charles. After using his own mutation to tell Imogene to come to Ellie's room, he asked her "What are you seeing, Ellenore?"

"I'm seeing..." She trailed off, hearing Dr. Florence jog down the halls.

"I'm seeing the _truth_."

* * *

 **Three Days Later**

Steve was up on his feet only a few days after he met with TJ in the abandoned farmhouse. Once he convinced Natasha he'd be fine, all four of them (Steve, Natasha, Sam and TJ) took a ride back to the city. Natasha was driving, so they got there in record time. She screeched to a halt in front of Anna's apartment building, and everyone got out of the SUV.

One awkward elevator ride later, Steve was knocking on Anna's door. He remembered two years ago he knocked on the same door. Anna threw it open, yanked him inside. She hugged him tight and cried. The more he found out about this new Anna, the more he realized just how much she must have missed him if she _cried_ in front of him.

He had only knocked once when a male voice called 'It's open!'

Steve pushed the door open, shield at the ready, and saw Anna's eclectic, quirky apartment packed up in brown cardboard boxes. They were stacked up with that looked like some Asian characters written on the sides with black marker. Clint was in what used to be the living room taping up a box.

"What are you doing?" Natasha asked, walking to her partner.

"What Anna asked me to do." He responded, taking a Sharpie from his pocket. He bit the cap to yank it off, and scrawled what Natasha recognised as traditional Japanese on the box, labeling it _Pictures_. Clint put the cap back on the marker. "Packing up her stuff."

"Why?" Sam asked, looking at the large, expensive looking couch half wrapped up in plastic.

"Didn't ask." Clint shrugged. "I owe her."

"How do you know it was Anna who asked you to pack her home up?" TJ asked, his hands jammed in his pockets. Standing in a room with S.H.I.E.L.D.s best (and a guy with wings), he felt like a fish out of water. Worse, actually; he felt like a fish in outer space. "There-There are dozens of programs that mimic and create voice patterns that even some of the best software can't detect."

"She called on a secure line." Clint said, handing Natasha a box. She put it on another, starting a new stack.

"There are no more secure lines." Steve pointed out as Clint calmly went to the kitchen.

"Anna _always_ has secure lines," the archer responded with another shrug. He opened the cupboard and took out a stack of plates.

"Where was she?" TJ asked as the two agents started wrapping plates in bubble wrap.

"Didn't say." Clint answered simply.

"She say where she was _going_?" Sam asked.

"Didn't say."

"What _did_ she say?" Steve asked, putting his shield on the table and walking closer.

"She said she was goin' dark and asked if I could pack up her place." Clint explained again. "I'm supposed to call the guy in Chinatown and he'll bring a truck here. Then I take it down to the docks, load it up in a shipping container and send it to Switzerland."

"Did she tell you what to do after that?" TJ asked, getting more and more anxious by the second.

"Nope." Clint said, then glanced at the young agent. "Calm down, TJ. I'm not cleaning up your puke."

Steve was also anxious, but he was more angry and frustrated than anything else. He ran a hand through his hair as he tried to figure out his next move. He'd only just started reading Anna's S.H.I.E.L.D. mission files, of the dozen or so he read, Steve remembered at least seven secret safe houses she had in Europe alone.

The large TV on the floor in the living room pinged to life. The famous S.H.I.E.L.D. eagle spun on the screen. TJ dashed to the TV and worked at one of the boxes it was connected too. It didn't take long for a picture to appear.

" _Hello? Anybody read me?_ " Anna's voice crackled through as a grainy picture came.

"Just a second!" TJ said under his breath, using a pair of pliers from his pocket to fix a bent antenna. By now, everyone had come closer to see what was on the screen. TJ straightened out the shiny round camera over the TV so Anna could see them too, then stepped back. He then took a small tablet from his pocket and began furiously working on it.

It was undoubtedly Anna; her blonde hair and face were unforgettable and distinctive. Her clear skin had seen better days; it looked greasy and sweaty, with smears of dirt here and there. There was a dark line over her bottom lip where it was healing from a split. Her hair was wavy and curling at the ends. It looked tangled and messy, opposed to the smooth mane Steve, TJ, Clint and Tasha were used to seeing. There were the beginnings of dark circles under her eyes, and her shoulders had a forward hunch; she looked _exhausted_.

Anan gave the five people an empty smile. " _Hey guys._ "

"Anna." Clint said, getting her attention. "Where are you?"

" _Europe._ " She said simply. She swallowed thickly and nodded. " _I'm-I'm in Europe._ "

"That's not too specific." Sam said, his arms crossed.

One corner of Anna's mouth turned up. " _Wilson, right?_ " She guessed, getting odd looks. " _I consulted on the Falcon project._ " She clarified. " _I saw what you did at the Helicarriers...You're a good guy to have on our side._ "

It went silent for moment or two. Natasha was looking intently at the background of Anna's video call. Anna was close to a best friend to Natasha, and the vague answers she gave weren't good enough.

The sky was almost monochromatically gray, letting through very little sunlight. The clouds made it almost impossible to tell what time of day it was too. The whole thing was wobbling, leading to the conclusion that Anna was on a moving vehicle of some sort; a truck or a boat. Tasha knew how water made Anna's curls appear, and they were starting too.

Anna raised a hand up to move hair out of her face. Natasha recognised the shirt Anna was wearing; a long sleeved, soft black thermal. She'd poked holes in the long cuffs to poke her thumb through. Anna's fingers were just as dirty as her face; dirt and what Steve _knew_ was blood was under and around her finger nails. The hair she pushed back was staying where she pushed it; her hair was damp.

By Natasha's best guess, Anna was on a boat somewhere in Northern waters.

"Annie what are you doing?" Steve asked, his voice was exasperated and tired, matching how Anna looked. "We saw what you did in the HYDRA hideout a few week ago."

Anna shook her head. " _I hoped you wouldn't._ "

"It reminded me of Tiksi." Natasha said, keeping her face stoic; Clint looked down at the ground and Anna just got a small, cynical smile on her face.

" _It was worse than Tiksi, Tasha._ " Anna admitted. " _I...Steve I was trying to help him._ "

"I know." He responded quickly. "I know that, Anna. But he's not the same-"

" _He's in there._ " Anna cut him off, her face slowly becoming sad. " _I've seen it, the fickers of who he used to be..._ "

"Where is he?" Sam asked when nobody said anything.

" _I don't know._ " Anna admitted sadly. " _After we got the HYDRA stragglers out of New York, James and I headed up to Maine._ "

" _James_?" Steve asked, he couldn't help it. He'd only heard his best friend called by his first name a couple dozen times, but _never_ by Anna.

She smiled a little. " _Yeah, James...He didn't like being called Bucky._ "

"You got HYDRA out of New York and Maine?" Natasha asked, bring the subject back.

" _Think so..._ " Anna nodded. " _There was only one compound in Maine, and it only took seven pounds of C4...The plan was to cut through Canada, take out a few on the way and hop a ship to China and clean out Asia._ "

"Didn't go as planned?" Sam guessed.

" _That's an understatement._ " Anna scoffed. " _We had a...We had a disagreement._ "

Steve saw how Anna's hand moved to cover her bottom lip as she spoke. "What happened?"

" _He was starting to remember me. And...And he thought that it was compromising his ability to complete his mission._ " Anna spoke the words flatly, and they didn't sound like her words, or 'James'. " _He told me to let him do this on his own, I disagreed, and now I have a busted lip._ "

Steve shook his head, pressing his fingers to his temples. "Where are you? I'll come and get you."

" _No...Steve I need to get away._ " Anna explained her voice getting small and quiet.

" _I just...Steve_ _ **he hit me**_ _."_

It grew very silent on both ends of the video call.

"Promise you'll keep in touch." Steve said in a half-hollow voice. " **Promise me**."

Anna smiled a little more. " _S.H.I.E.L.D. is gone, Steve. I don't know who knows my safe houses or aliases...I promise I'll call you soon._ "

"Let us know if you need anything." Clint spoke up, speaking for Nat as well.

Anna nodded, and looked down briefly. " _You know, the last few directors called me S.H.I.E.L.D.s backbone...That's you guys now. Take down the bastards._ "

TJ looked up from the tablet at Anna's words. "You-You're coming back, right?" Anna looked towards the image of TJ on her laptop screen. "I mean, we're S.H.I.E.L.D. Once we get rid of the terrorists, you'll come back, _right_?"

Instead of answering TJ's question, Anna wiped a hand over her cheek.

" _I love you. All of you._ "

Then the screen went black. Anna was gone.

TJ threw the tablet back to the ground. Without S.H.I.E.L.D.s massie computers to access, he didn't have the tch with him to track Anna's call.

"What now, Cap?" Sam asked, looking at Steve.

"We do what she told us." He said, standing straighter. "Take the bastards down."

* * *

Anna POV

"I love you. All of you." I said with a genuine smile. I look one more look at their faces before I shut the small computer I'd stolen from the cargo hold of the plane that had taken us from Alberta to Andyr.

The cars were tracked, so I needed to find alternative transportation. I bribed a farmer who was driving back to his village after delivering some vegetables for a ride. His village was only a few miles from a private airstrip that would take us to Moscow.

It was a ten hour drive in the bed of a truck. There was a layer of hay on the bottom of the truck, providing _some_ comfort against the wooden boards, and we had our bags for pillows.

James was leaning back on his dufflebag next to me, arms crossed tightly over his chest and his legs bent up at the knee.

The truck had a ratty canvas roof that protected us from the rain, but the back was open and let us see the rain that was falling over the grassy Sakha plains (I'd sat with my back to it when I video called my team earlier). It was pretty chilly, but like any smart person, we were dressed warmly.

I _hated_ to lie to them, but I knew them (I spent so much time on the falcon project, I felt like I knew Sam). If I was missing, they wouldn't stop until they found me. Running from the remains of S.H.I.E.L.D. would be hard enough. Fighting HYDRA alongside James, _and_ running from S.H.I.E.L.D. would be damn near impossible.

I sat back on my own duffle and copied James' pose; arms crossed, knees up. Looking over at his face, I smiled. His brow wasn't furrowed as he slept anymore.

It was a while later that James shifted next to me. His heavy torso slid towards me so his head was on my shoulder. He maneuvered himself slightly closer to me, his arms still tightly around himself. Through his thick clothes, I could still feel the warmth he radiated; just like he used to.

I had to put on some fake tears for the call, and a few were still fresh in my eyes. They welled closer to falling, and I wiped them with my cuffs before I wrapped one arm around his shoulders so it rested on his cold metal bicep. The other rested along one of his folded arms, and gently moved around his left cheek; I gently played with the long, soft hair (I now forced him to take showers at _least_ every other day), trailed them over his bearded cheek and jaw, pressed gently to his neck...anything soothing. I could feel James' soft breaths, and I slowly rested my cheek on his head.

Last time HYDRA was taken down, it took an army.

Now, it's just two; a 90-something blonde with a list of enemies a mile long and a possible pyromaniac, and a brainwashed Soviet assassin with a metal arm. We were a ragtag pair with nothing to lose.

In my experience, at least one ragtag team member didn't get to go home.


	20. Chapter 20: No One Needs to Feel This

**Sorry for the late update! I've been busy with stuff. Oops. :)**

 **Enjoy the chapter!**

 **~Christianne**

* * *

Anna POV

I groaned, throwing an arm over my face. "Oh you're _killin_ ' me Jimmy!"

Moscow hadn't been a _total_ bust, but it was way less information than we thought we were getting. We took out a handful of businessmen who funded and profited from HYDRA, and a few mafia bosses that recruited soldiers. For a city that the US has so many assets in, there was close to no HYDRA activity. Bastards were smarter that I thought.

After a couple of days there, we hopped a train to Issa; a town a few hundred miles from Moscow. We had to knock out and tie up a few SRV (the _Foreign Intelligence Service of the Russian Federation_ , like the Russian FBI after the KGB was dismantled) after they recognised us on a train. I swiped their badges, and since James and I spoke flawless Russian, first chance I get I'm altering the pictures.

Now, we were in a motel in Issa. James had just come out of the bathroom after taking a shower. He hadn't shaved or cut his hair; two things I had been nagging him about since we landed in Russia two weeks ago. He just grunted at me and ruffled his hair roughly with a towel.

"You look like a hobo, James!" I announced as he went to his bag and pulled on a shirt.

There were scars over his body. Lots and lots of shiny scars. They all looked like they had been healed perfectly, accept the one on his left side; it was where I pulled the glass shard out way back when. Everytime I saw James without a shirt (which was more than you'd think), I always found myself looking at where metal mt skin. There was a thick, heavy line of scarring that merged with metal. I remember when I washed him up back in Brooklyn, how he shivered when I moved the washcloth over it.

"I grew up during the Depression, I _know_ what a hobo looks like." I continued, laying back on the creaky motel bed I was lounging on. "Make coat out of newspaper and help me with my English homework and you'd be Newspaper Newman." I mumbled under my breath.

"Where did I meet you?"

"You killed a man at your own grave and broke into my house." I answered him, looking at the old Russian fashion magazine that was on the nightstand. I remember pouring over this magazine in the 1950s

"Where did I meet you?" James asked again, sitting on the edge of the other motel bed.

"I just told you," I shrugged.

"Where-Where..." James trailed off, pressing a hand to his forehead. "Where did _I_ meet _you_?"

I slowly sat up and looked at him. "You mean...You're asking where did Bucky meet Annie."

The muscle in his cheek jerked, making on side of his top lip curl. He took a few seconds to calm down, and slowly nodded.

I sighed and layed back down. "You don't need to know."

"I _want_ to know."

"No you don't." I countered smoothly.

"Yes I do." James insisted.

"No, you don't." I said again. "You don't want to know how we met because if you do, you'll want to know more, and if you want me to keep being a _soldier_ I _can't_ tell you more."

It was quiet for a while before I heard the sound of James hitting his metal arm with his flesh fist. I put the magazine down and stood up. "Sit tight Jimmy...I'll get my tools."

Ten minutes later I was sitting next to James, prying the plates off his forearm, and the grainy TV was on low for a little noise. I realized a few weeks ago that his arm required a little work at least every week; it might be less if I actually knew what I was doing, had some blueprints or something.

After half an hour, I slid the last metal plate until it clicked, and sat back with a satisfied smile. "There. You're all good." I said, patting the metal shoulder. I only really got one pat before James bolted from the bed to get his long sleeved shirt from the floor.

He _hated_ that arm. I think if he'd rip it right out of his torso if he could.

* * *

"Shh...Shh...You're alright, I'm alright..." I cooed in the dirty, grimy bathroom. I was kneeling next to James, circling my arms around him as he clung to me.

I'd woken up in the middle of the night and saw James wasn't in his bed. He must have had a nightmare, because he was in the most protected, enclosed place in the bathroom; the (disgusting) shower. It was one of those old tubs in the wall, with the two doors on a track that went from floor to ceiling and enclosed the shower and bathtub.

"It-It _hurts_ to remember." James ground out through clenched teeth. Since I got in the tub with him and he'd latched onto me, all I'd gotten from him was strangled, choked breaths and growls.

His words made me stop talking, and stop the soothing patterns my hands and fingers were tracing on whatever parts of him I could touch. "You...You're remembering..." I breathed out.

There was a tiny, hopeful voice in the back of my head. It was talking about putting James back in bed, and him waking up as _Bucky_. He'd call me _Glow_ , ask questions about the metal arm he woke up with and ask why I was crying so much.

I had to pinch my eyes shut to try and force the voice out. Right now, hope was dangerous.

" _It hurts,_ " he practically snarled as his fingers, flesh and metal, dug into my the small of my back and behind my neck. "I-I _felt them_ in my head...There-There are places with _nothing_."

I moved slightly, resting his temple on my cheek bone. His skin was clammy, and he was taking shallow, pant-like breaths that went over my sternum. "What do you need me to do?" I asked him, not sure how to help.

He didn't say anything for a while.

I was sitting sideways in the tub with my knees up, and James was slouched over me, one arm pulled me close to him at the back of the dated tub and pressed firmly into the small of my back. His other arm, his right, was over my shoulder and his hand held the back of my neck. His thumb pressed down on my pulse. I bowed my head towards his, and pressed my forehead to his temple.

This was familiar; us tangled up together.

"I-I..." His breathing was ragged, and noises from the back of his throat came out halfway through his words. Every time he tried to speak, I felt his rough beard scratch the skin of my upper chest.

I pulled a hand through his hair, combing it to the side. I put a hand on his bare neck, making him shudder. "Breathe." I said softly, running my fingertips over his cool skin. "Just breathe, James...You're safe here."

He took big, deep breaths that made his shoulders rise and fall steadily. I had no idea how long it took, but after a while, the only indication James was still awake was how now and then he'd shift his weight against me.

"When you left HYDRA, you knew fighting them would be hard." I told him, trailing my fingers softly over his neck.

"But you're _strong_ , James," I added. "They _programmed_ you to not think for yourself, and you did in spite of all that."

"When will it stop?" He said, barely loud enough to be considered a whisper. "When...When will the _pain_ stop?"

"I don't know...What they did to you..." I trailed off, slowly moving my fingers over his skin. "James...The pain might _never_ stop."

I closed my eyes and listened to him breathing

"What-What about when _they're gone_..." James half-growled. "Will-Will it go away?"

I paused before answering him. "Do you know what closure is?" He remained silent. "It's...It's a feeling you get. A feeling of... _resolution_ , or conclusion at the end of something, at the end of a journey."

"Will _that_ make it go away?" James mumbled against my collarbone, moving his other hand to behind my neck. I felt like he was hugging me how a small child would; arms around my shoulders and neck, and his face pressed to the side of my neck. I closed my eyes and rested his cheek on the side of his head. I was glad he was so warm; the ceramic was cold and the thin cotton t-shirt and pants I wore to bed didn't do much to to protect me from it. The way he was curled around me actually made me sweat under my knees.

"I don't know." I told him honestly.

"Will it make me stop hurting?" James asked again in the same tone.

Instead of telling him I didn't know, I thought for a moment, and rested my head back on his. "If I told you it wouldn't, would you still want HYDRA gone?"

I thought he fell asleep; he said nothing for a long time.

"No one needs to..." He started, then took a stuttered breath. "No-No one needs to _feel_ this." His choked voice broke on _feels._

Shock didn't begin to describe how I felt. Not only at what he said, but at the hot tears that stuck to my t-shirt. Tears were usually body temperature, maybe slightly warmer, but James' tears were _hot_. At my best guess, he ran at about 101°. They seared onto my skin, and since he was so close, they didn't cool off.

"No one...No one no one no one..." He began murmuring repeatedly against my skin.

I put a hand on the back of his head and stroked his hair a few times. "Shh..." I sighed softly, then pressed a kiss to his hair. "No one will." I assured him.

* * *

"Here." I said, shoving poppy seeds rolls at James. The man I bought them from spoke Russian with a heavy Mongolian accent, so I wasn't _exactly_ sure how many rolls I was getting when he handed me the paper bag. I'd already eaten one, and I had another in my hands. " _Eat them_."

James looked into the bag, then back at me. "Not hungry."

"Liar." I said simply. "I read your file. I know how many calories you need to take in a day. _Eat them_."

James blinked once, and reached into the bag, took out one roll and bit into it. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "It's this way." He said. I followed him wordlessly, and looked at the old Russian architecture as we walked.

When I woke up this morning, James was staring blankly out the window. When I asked him how he was doing, he said he knew this place; he remembered a mission here in his dream.

It was sometime in the 1980s; it was the only time he could recall being out of cryofreeze and not on a mission. The man who requested the _Winter Soldier_ to carry out a few political assassinations was old HYDRA; his father was one of Schmidt's best lieutenants. It was for that reason, and that reason alone, that the soldier was walked down from the HYDRA set up to the man's house where he was inspected like a new race horse.

I looked into it, and the guy was still alive. We were going to pay him a little visit.

We stopped in a courtyard, and I looked around. There were three homes around the courtyard; they reminded me of brownstone in New York. Only these were _much_ bigger.

"I don't know why, but I thought this guy would live a little more... _extravagantly_." I said with a shrug.

"He owns seven." James said flatly.

I laughed once, and glanced up at him.

We went off to the side, and I pulled the heavy coat I grabbed from a clothesline off my shoulders. Under it, I was wearing a sparkly, plunging, backless tank top and leather pants. I got the outfit I was wearing at this hole-in-the wall shop by our motel. I saw at least three hookers walk in and exchange clothes for new ones.

Then again, I was supposed to be a hooker, so I took a breath, disassembled, cleaned and reassembled my gun a few times, and sang a few classics in my head as I shimmied into leather pants.

I threw the coat into a trashcan, and looked over my shoulder at James. "What?" I asked, looking in the small purse I had with me, inside, there was a seven inch knife.

When Jimmy stayed silent, I walked a little closer. In the knee-high boots I wore, I was about level with his brows instead of his nose. I examined his face carefully, looking for any indication something was wrong. His pupils, which were normally small and pinprick-like, were slowly widening to swallow up most of the blue.

"You know the plan?" I asked him, taking a few steps back to tousle my hair. James nodded, hoisting the bag he was carrying up to his shoulder as he started up the metal ladder to the tops of the buildings. I laughed once at him, then started towards the door of the HYDRA's house.

I took a breath and held it in so my chest was forward. I rang the bell, and waited for it to be answered. A thug in a suit answered.

" _Hello_." I said in Russia, throwing in a Ukrainian accent and batted lashes. " _I'm here for the master of the house?_ "

Wordlessly, the thug opened up the door.

"Sir Fedot studied in London." The thug said in English. It was so heavily accented that you could _barely tell_ it was English. "He speak English in 'is 'ome."

I nodded once, walking into the foyer like I owned the place. I swung my hips a little more, and examined the massive foyer. Black and white marble on the floors, old architecture along the stairs and hallways, but the furniture was stainless steel, glass and gold.

"'ow does Sir Fedot want 'is guests?" I asked, keeping with the Ukrainian accent.

"I do not know." The thug said in turn, crossing his thick arms over his chest. I saw the edge of a holster when his jacket lifted. "I not ask."

"Ah..." I said, nodding slightly as I walked closer to Fedot's thug. "'ow do _you_ want your guests?" I asked, giving my voice a throaty, low tone. Normally, when I used the voice, the man hearing it wouldn't waste any time grabbing me; the thug must have had orders to follow, because all he did was back away from me.

I smirked ever so slightly, and stalked him like a predator stalking prey. He continued to walk backwards until the almost inaudible sound of a bullet flying through the air. There was a wet crunch when it hit the side of the thug's head, bringing skull, blood and brain matter with it when it exited the other side.

As the thug fell to the floor, I was uneffected. I gave a thumbs up towards the high window of the foyer. On another building roof, James was set up with a rifle. I searched the thug and came up with a decent sized wad of cash, a gun and a keycard. I didn't bother with the gun. I emptied the bullets in a potted plant, tossed the clip in a vase, and headed through the house.

I walked through the massive halls like I owned the place. I let my feet fall heavily, making the heels of my boots click louder. I passed a kitchen (I saw another exit), and went to the second floor. After going to the third floor, I saw two massive dark wooden doors. There was a heavily armed thug on each side with a dated (but still effective) automatic weapon.

I switched my accent to Russian. "ello boys," I sighed lazily, not pausing my steps to the door. They moved to restrain me, but I flipped my hair over my shoulder and they stopped. I put one hand on a cold door knob, and looked at the thug who was glaring sternly at the other; he was in charge.

"'zis may get loud, boys. Perhaps you need a break." I suggested suggestively, winking. I pushed the door open and shut it behind me. I made sure to turn the lock. The thugs probably had keys, but I was buying time. I needed James to get into the building.

A deep voice was bellowing out Russian. There was a massive leather chair behind an equally massive desk. I cleared my throat softly, and got a hand was dismissively towards me. Even though I was dressed like a whore, I didn't appreciate that, and walked with light steps to the side of his desk. I perched myself next to the base of the cordless phone he was speaking on, and waited.

When Emil Fedot turned to put the phone down, he froze halfway there. He was younger that I thought; only in his early 50s. He couldn't have been more than 20 when he demanded to see the soldier. I was inspecting my fingernails when he turned to me. I slid my gaze towards him and turned one corner of my mouth up.

Fedot laughed once and put the phone down. "My...Is it Thursday already?" His voice was an odd mix of Russian and British.

I put my hand down wordlessly and straightened up.

He laughed once more, and stood from his chair. As he walked to the wet bar in his office, I noticed he had a limp on his left side. I filed the information away as he spoke again. "Madame Sinclair knows I do prefer younger girls...of a different ethnicity."

I added _drop-kick in the crotch_ to what I was going to do to him as I stood. I walked slowly over to him and took the crystal shot glass he held out to me. I took it and threw it all back at once. It burned going down, but I didn't bat an eye. In fact, I kept eye contact with Fedot the whole time. My gaze narrowed as my thumb brushed a symbol scratched into the glass; a swastika.

"You're quiet, my dear." Fedot said, raising a hand up to brush over my face. His knuckles skimmed down my temple and cheekbone, and he gently gripped my chin with a curved forefinger and his thumb. "Is this your first time?" He asked in a hushed voice.

I broke out in a grin. " _Nope_." I said, making my voice as American as it could get.

Fedot barely had time to process what I said before I grabbed the hand on my face and twisted it back painfully. I pushed forward, stomped on his calf and got him on his knees. The moans and howls of pain he let out must have been interpreted as _inventive_ sex by the thugs, because the door knob didn't even jiggle.

"Ok, pervert, this is how it's going to work." I started to explain slowly. I leaned down to speak in Fedot's ear. He'd broken down into a sweat by now; if I kept him like this for too much longer he'd risk permanent tendon damage.

"I'm going to let go of your arm, and then you're _not_ going to scream. Get it?" I asked. I tightened my grip and twisted more when he didn't answer. " _Got it_?"

"Got it!" Fedot half screamed. "I-I get it...I understand."

I dropped him back on the thick carpet, and stepped over him to the wet bar. I picked up a sterling silver corkscrew and examined it. "Do you know who I am, Emil?" I asked as a weighed the corkscrew in my hand, tossing it between one and the other.

"Yes..." He said quietly. "My father spoke of you... _Anna Brightman_."

I spun on a heel to face Fedot; had a sweet, calm smile on my face. "I am going to ask you one question. Then, you're going to give me one answer. That's how things are going to work honey, m'kay?"

Fedot, grasping his arm, nodded once.

"And, until I ask you this question, you're going to stay completely quiet." I added Russian looked up at me and blinked.

The next thing I knew, he was yelling at his guards in Russian that he was being attacked. I shut him up with a kick to the chest, pushing him on his back.

There was a commotion on the other side of the door. The thugs struggled with the doorknob, while yelling, then it stopped. There was more muffled yelling, then the sound of some hard hits. A gun went off, then it was quiet.

Even I couldn't hide my surprise when one of the thugs was thrown clear into the office. He was dead by the time he landed on his back. The doors had a jagged, broken hole about four feet off the ground, and I saw at least seven more thugs on the ground.

I stepped on Fedot's wrist just to make sure he wasn't going anywhere, and walked closer to look through the hole in the door. I thought it was odd that a HYDRA big-wig like Fedot would only have a staff of ten; James had killed at least twenty five armed thugs.

James had blood on his face. Some of it was spatter from when he stabbed men in the neck (I saw one man who looked like he had the column of his throat yanked out) and some was his own. As I approached him, I kept my steps slow, deliberate, and even held my hands out like I was trying to calm a startled animal.

"Are you ok?" I asked in a whisper. James didn't even blink. He let the blood-slick knife fall to the ground. I saw his breathing begin to speed up, and his pupils dilated.

I grabbed his forearm with one hand, and my other hand came up to his face. I let it rest on his cheek for a moment; James' eyes closed. I slowly began to wipe blood off his face, but it was getting stuck in his facial hair. I put both hands on his cheeks and gently pressed my thumbs to his collar bones until he opened his eyes.

"Three hours." I whispered. "Three hours, and then we're gone. Ok? Can you do that?"

James let out a shaky breath, and I felt a gloved, flesh hand shakily move to rest on my hip.

" _James_ ," I breathed, my voice shaking slightly. "Can you give me just _three hours_?"

The hand on my hip squeezed tightly, leaving another bruise no doubt, and he nodded. I squeezed his hand, and held it as I brought him through the broken study doors. I gave his hand a final squeeze, reached behind him, took the gun in his waistband and pointed it at Fedot.

"So, my question." I said, walking over to him. "How much HYDRA information are you privy too?"

Fedot only glanced at me; he was looking at James. It was like a light switch flipped in his head when James stood straighter and linked his hands in front of him, with a semi-automatic in his hands.

"Soldier!" Fedot said suddenly, making James look at him. The man on the floor began babbling in Russian, giving James order after order. At one point, he called me his mission. When he was done, he was breathing heavily, and waiting for James to move.

"Yeah...That doesn't really work on him anymore." I sighed, smiling with a hint of pride.

"You think you can _control him_?" Fedot half-laughed through the pain. "He-He's barely human anymore-!"

As he spoke, I jammed my gun into his mouth. It seemed a pretty good way to shut him up.

"Did you know," I started out in a conversational, soft tone. I pulled the safety off the gun. "That with a gun barrel between your teeth you can only speak in vowels?"

Fedot just glared at me. "I'm going to take this very nice Colt out of your mouth." I told him, yanking it forward. My goal was to take a few teeth with, but I think I only cut his tongue.

"HYDRA information. _Now_." I demanded.

He half-growled at me. "I'll never tell you anything...you _bitch_."

Before I said a word, Fedot was yanked from where he kneeled under me. He was gasping for air and grabbing at James' metal hand. Jimmy was stone faced as he pinned Fedot to the wall. The Russian's feet were dangling in the air as James choked the life out of him.

"Hey!" I said, grabbing his flesh shoulder. "James _put him down!_ "

Fedot's face was slowly turning from pale to blue, and, if anything, James' grip got tighter.

" _James!_ " I said in a more forceful tone. " _Do not kill him._ "

His flesh hand went to my chest and pushed me backwards. It was a hard shove that I knew would leave another bruise. I yelped when my back hit the bookcase then slouched to the floor. I didn't just yelp; I yelped a _name_.

" _Bucky!_ "

In the course of two seconds, I was leaning on the floor with a hand to my chest, Fedot was crumpled to the floor as he gasped for air, and _**he**_ was just staring at me. His breathing didn't appear to be speeding up, and his pupils weren't dilated; he wasn't losing complete control. However, his eyes widened.

I slowly got to my feet, and again held my hands out like he was a startled animal. When he didn't jerk away from me when I reached out to him, and couldn't hold in the sigh of relief I let out. I took hold of both his hands, and looked up into his eyes.

"Go find the garage. Get us a truck." I said lowly.

"Th-Three hours...You-You said to give you three hours..." James breathed, squeezing my hands tight.

"And _now_ I'm telling you to _go_." I said in the same low voice. James' wide eyes didn't blink, and the only indication he heard me was how he squeezed my arm.

I turned my attention to Fedot. I grabbed his good arm, and half-threw him into his chair. I used a scarf from the coat rack and his tie to secure his ankles to the chair, and I found some heavy wool socks in the bottom drawer of his desk to tie one hand down.

"One more time." I said lowly, leaning on the arms of the chair to get in Fedot's face. " _HYDRA information._ "

He just swallowed.

"You don't even have to say anything. Just point me in the direction of the files you have." I shrugged, walking towards the wet bar.

"I-I..." Fedot was having a _very_ hard time speaking after James choked him. "I-I'm not...telling...you an-... _anything_."

I downed the vodka I'd poured for myself and walked back to the desk. I grabbed his hand and stretched his arm out, making Fedot scream painfully. I rested most of my weight on his wrist. I lightly balanced the sharp point of the corkscrew between the dips of his palm.

"Are you sure?" I asked sweetly.

Fedot just looked at me, his eyes blazing with defiance.

I shrugged. "Fine. Be that way. But remember, _you brought this on yourself._ "

Fedot opened his mouth to say something, but whatever it was was cut off with a scream.

I pushed down on the corkscrew, turning it as I did. Blood spurted out of his palm. I didn't stop until the corkscrew was embedded in the desk. I couldn't help myself when I smiled.

"You know, the last time I tortured someone was in Afghanistan...Sometime in the 80s." I sighed casually as I picked up a letter opener from Fedot's desk.

"I _hope_ I haven't lost my touch."


	21. Chapter 21: We're Not Normal

**Sorry this chapter is late! And short!**

 **So, I have a pretty big plot point for this story, but I feel like I'd be rushing it...I want James/Bucky and Anna to have a much deeper, solid relationship before I go into something else. So right now, my plan is to have them go one more mission together for sure, and then I'm going to revaluate where I'm taking this.**

 **My update schedual: Well, school is staring in just a few weeks for me, and I'm runnins around doing various things like a chicken with its head cut off. They will be sparatic until I really get into the groove of school and stuff. Sorry, thats the best I can do. But, I will say that I'll try to get the next chapter up as soon as I can.**

 **Enjoy the chapter!**

 **~Christianne**

* * *

Omniscient POV

 **1976**

 _A helicopter landed on a flat slab of grey rock in northern Pakistan. When it landed, a person in a suit and bullet proof vest stepped out. They clutched a black, steel case to their chest. One wrist was handcuffed to the handle, and the chain rattled against the case as he walked to the heavily guarded cave gouged out in the Himalayas._

" _Samson!" A voice yelled over the blades of the chopper. Gerard Samson, the man in the suit, turned towards the voice and saw a man in worn military clothing waving him over. The man jogged towards him._

" _Thank you for coming on such short notice, director," the man said. Now that Gerard was closer, and the man wasn't screaming, he could hear the heavy Russian accent that hung in the man's voice._

" _You're Agent Zolnerowich, I assume?" Gerard asked, walking through the damp tunnels of the mountain. As assistant director of S.H.I.E.L.D. he was privy of almost all operatives. Most of Zolnerowich's file was redacted even to him; Gerard had Level 9 clearance._

" _Yes sir." Agent Zolnerowich said with a firm nod. Alexi Zolnerowich was hard to forget. He had blond hair cut in a severe military style, a hard jaw, strong brow and piercing green eyes. e was at least 6'2", was built like a linebacker, rarely smiled and_ _ **never**_ _had his shoulders anything but ramrod straight. His broad The Russian accent also gave away his identity; S.H.I.E.L.D. had very few native Russians as agents._

" _How is Ada?" Gerard asked conversationally. Ada was Alexi's 9-year-old daughter._ _ **She**_ _was more famous in S.H.I.E.L.D. than her mother and father. She wrote every agent Alexi went on missions with a thank you card for getting her father back safe and sound._

" _Good." Alexi said with a nod. "She is performing in her school's talent show next week. She plans to dance a portion of_ _ **Swan Lake**_ _."_

" _Plans to?" Gerard asked as they walked past a corridor of the cave where agents were working on a massive tank._

 _Ever so slightly, Alexi's cheeks lifted as he explained his daughter's logic. As he spoke, he punched in an eight-digit number on a keypad by the door. "If Rebecca does not do her hair bun right, she says she will sing."_

 _Gerard gave one chuckle as he punched in an eight-digit code as well. The door buzzed loudly, then opened. Agent Zolnerowich, by reputation, did none of what Gerard had seen so far. He hadn't had the cocky edge most assistant directors had, and he claimed he was too old to have it; he was 46. Given that, he was going to brag to his cohorts that he got Agent Zolnerowich to give a 'Russian smile.'_

" _Have you got any new leads on Slavic?" Gerard asked next._

 _Alexi's eyes went abruptly dark, and his face became stone._

 _He gripped the end of the flashlight on his belt so hard Gerard swore he heard the metal creak in protest. "It's just...October after next will be ten years-"_

" _I know how long my wife has been dead, assistant director Samson." Alexi cut him off. Some people thought Alexi's accent got deeper when he was angry; of those, some thought it was involuntary, others thought it was to intimidate people._

 _Gerard stayed silent after that._

 _The path they went down was getting steeper by the second, and then they came to a door guarded by a man with an M16._

" _It already in there?" Gerard asked the agent, getting a simple nod in return. Alexi pushed the wooden latch over and opened the door. Gerard followed the Russian into the dimly lit room. Alexi flicked on the other three light switches on the panel of seven, and the slate gray walls of the mountain walls were lit up with harsh white light._

 _Gerard looked around in shock. "I...I hadn't realized her methods had-..."_

 _Alexi used the toe of his boot to kick a knife; it was bloody past the hilt. "In KGB, we have name for what Anna is doing." He said, looking at the smears of blood on the wall. "_ _ **живопись цель**_ _."_

" _What's it mean?" Gerard asked, unlocking the handcuff on his wrist as he put the case on the table at one end of the room._

" _Painting target." Alexi said as he walked over to a dead man slouched to the ground._

" _I don't get it." Gerard said, turning to look at Alexi. He was dragging two dead men out the door. He told the guard to get people to dispose of them._

 _Alexi chose his words carefully. "We had agents who couldn't..._ _ **handle the stress**_ _, of the job," he started out slowly. "They became a liability...And had to be..._ _ **dealt with**_ _, accordingly. "_

 _Gerard was just about to open the case, but turned to look at Alexi in shock. "Agent Zolnerowich, are you suggesting that Annabelle Brightman be_ _ **terminated**_ _?"_

" _ **No**_ _...and any man who tries will end up at the wrong end of his own gun," Alexi scoffed. He paused to drag two more bodies out of the cave. He had to stop at one of them and check their wrist for a tattoo. One of the men he knew from his days as a KGB operative; Vladimir._

 _He grunted, throwing the last man out the door. "I am just saying this is not uncommon in agents in this line of work."_

" _Well, torture isn't in Anna's job description." Gerard said, opening the case._

" _This isn't torture," Alexi pointed out, looking at the blood on the floor. "These men still had their teeth, fingers, eyes and limbs."_

" _That may be how you interrogated people in Russia, Agent Zolnerowich, but not here." Gerard mumbled, pulling on a pair of white cotton gloves._

" _We are in Pakistan, Sampson. Not_ _ **Iowa**_ _." Alexi scoffed again. "And this is now Anna interrogates...If anything, I've learned from her."_

 _Gerard just shook his head; his expression closed conversation. Carefully, Gerard pulled the single item in the the case out, and Alexi lifted the plastic box up on the turntable. He looked over his shoulder when the hinges creaked. Gerard followed his gaze quickly._

" _I was under the impression that in her state, we wouldn't he disturbing her." He said under his breath._

 _Alexi shrugged and stepped back. "Anna is always unpredictable."_

 _Gerard nodded in agreement, and pulled the vinyl record out of the paper sleeve. "Careful..." He said under his breath, more to himself than Alexi. They'd had one of their best agents sneak into Anna's apartment and steal a single item. It would be flown back and replaced before she even became coherent._

 _The record went on the table, and after Alexi turned the player on and set the needle in the first groove, both men quickly left._

 _On the other side of the room, Anna had her back pressed to the corner of the wall. Just like the men Alexi dragged out, she was covered in blood. Only, this blood wasn't hers._

 _The seven men Alexi took out of the room were the KGB's worst of the worst. They were responsible for over a dozen S.H.I.E.L.D. deaths between just three of them. She should have killed them right when she saw them through the scope of her gun, but she dragged them to the S.H.I.E.L.D. hold in northern Pakistan instead to pump them for information._

 _She wanted Slavic._

 _Enrico Slavic was born in Argentina in the late 40s. His mother was Hispanic, his father an escaped Nazi. The first interaction Anna had with him was when he was just a child; she was with a small group of Israeli soldiers hunting Nazis in South America. He saw her stab his murdering, Jew-hating father in the chest seven times. The next time Slavic saw Anna, it was just after he killed the brunette woman who married that washed-up, traitor Russian agent Alexi._

 _Anna had spent the better part of ten years trying to find the man who killed Penny; Rebecca deserved to have the killer of at least one child brought to justice. Or, to the end of a knife. Penelope died just a few years before Stevie did, and since Stevie was killed in Vietnam, no matter how much Anna tried, she couldn't get **his** killer. _

_She could, however, find the man responsible for killing Penny; a newlywed on her way home from the hospital with her daughter and husband._

 _Since she left the wide scope of S.H.I.E.L.D., she'd gotten to a dark place. The inside creases of her elbows were now covered in blotchy red marks from where she pushed a needle in. When she 'interrogated' the KGB agents on the whereabouts of Slavic, she'd been hopped up on Dreamland to keep her alert; so she wouldn't miss or forget a single thing they said. It was going fine until one of them mentioned Bucky._

 _Halfway through, Anna stopped asking questions, doubled her Dreamland dose and_ _ **hurt**_ _the men tied up before her. Alexi had seen her come down from Cloud-9 (a Dreamland high) several times, but she was nearly catatonic now. He alerted HQ, and they went back to how Howard Stark used to snap Anna out of her low point without administering mor drugs._

 _The record on the turntable gave out static for a moment, then music began to play._

 _"_ I've been dreamin' of a place I love  
Even more than I usually do  
And although I know it's a long road back  
I promise you..."

"I'll be home for Christmas"

* * *

Anna POV

Fedot was dead.

I was sitting on the floor across from him in his desk chair with a large pile of HYDRA files next to me, and a bloody letter opened in my hands. My knees were up to my chest and my forehead was pressed to my knees.

The jagged remains of the door creaked open. I felt the floor dip, vibrate and squeal in protest of James' weight. For a while he stood over me, then he slowly descended to sit on the floor next to me.

I inhaled sharply when his arm grazed mine as he maneuvered himself next to me.

"We...We should leave." James said in his flat, emotionless voice.

My breathing stuttered, and I inhaled sharply to get my breath back.

"We should leave." James said again, with just a touch of concern in his voice. It was barely there. If I hadn't spent the last few weeks searching for emotion in his voice, I would have missed it. "Anna I said-"

"Keep talking." I whispered. "Just...James _please_ keep talking."

It was quiet for a few minutes.

"I want to try a cheeseburger." James announced lowly, looking straight ahead at the wall across from us. "Not sure why...I feel like I should know why, but I don't. I'm not entirely sure what it is, but I want one."

It went quite for a moment or two before he picked back up.

"You should have opened a window. The cold could keep him from being discovered for a few extra days."

He made sporadic statements through the next hour or two.

During a silence, he got to his feet and moved to sit on the other side of me; he was closer than last time. Slowly, a shaking flesh arm came to rest over my shoulders. He nudged me closer until I was facing his chest. His metal fingers worked the bloody letter opener from my hands and threw it to the side; it was embedded in the hard wood of one of the legs of Fedot's desk. For several awkward seconds, he squirmed around. James pulled one of my hands behind his neck, and pressed it there when I tried to move it.

Then it clicked; he was trying to hold me the way I held him when he broke down.

I gently pressed my fingers to the back of his neck, and my other hand pressed into the hard wall of muscle over his hip. I rested my head back and let him keep his arm over my shoulders. We went still; aside from breathing, neither of us moved. I felt myself slowly slipping back into a better place, and let out a shaky sigh.

"I think I want to drive next time we have a car." James commented. "I know how too, but it wasn't something they kept teaching me over and over...I'm not sure I'm even very good at it anymore."

My grip on James tightened, and my eyes pinched closed. I could feel myself slipping into unconsciousness, and I could almost pretend I was being held by Bucky. Even with James talking about driving, eggs and the color gray in his deep, rough, emotionless voice helped me.

I used to be able to think in Bucky's voice. It wasn't hard at all to remember his playfully charming, wise-cracking voice for the first few years. It was one Christmas in the early 50s, and I had a Bing Crosby record on the turntable. _I'll be Home for Christmas_ came on, then skipped to Jingle Bells. I remember sitting in Howard's living room, clutching the glass of wine (Jarvis always got my favorite when I gave some notice I was coming) to my chest, looking wide eyed at the record player.

The previous Christmas, I was in Korea. I didn't have a chance to really celebrate it, and I really didn't want to either; Kára didn't have a real good grasp of _Earthly_ holidays, and was a real stick in the mud about them. In Korea, I sat on my cot and thought about how much I missed listening to the record Bucky gave me; I thought about how much I missed his voice.

Every time I heard _I'll be Home for Christmas_ , I closed my eyes and imagined Bucky's voice at the end. It used to be just as crisp and clear as the day I first heard it. Now, in Howard's living room, I couldn't hear it. I could remember what Bucky said at the end of the record, but it wasn't in his voice. It was just a vague memory of a garbled voice. I started crying, and had three people rush in. Howard scooped me up into a hug first thing, Peggy was trying to discreetly hide the gun she'd had out, and Jarvis mumbled something about Russian Tea Cakes (my favorite) as he went to the kitchen.

It was 60-some years later, and I was starting to think in his voice again.

 _Calm down darlin'...I got you, Glow, and I'm not lettin' anythin' happen to you._

* * *

I woke up in the back of an SUV. I was staring at the buttery black leather seats as I gasped and shot up from the cushioned seats. I turned and saw trees and grass flying by the windows.

"I changed your clothes."

I jerked to my right and saw James behind the wheel of the car.

" _What?_ " I asked, still trying to get my bearings. James glanced in the rear view mirror at me. He'd washed his face and beard; no more rusty, brownish stains on his skin.

"I changed your clothes." He said again, looking back at the road.

Finally looking down at myself, I saw I was wearing one of my many all black ensembles instead of the sparkly, reddish/orange sparkly tank top. I felt over my clothes, making sure I didn't have any new wounds, and my brows raised up.

"You put my _bra_ on for me?" I asked him, surprised.

James wordlessly nodded, accelerating to get around a slow, rusty sedan.

"Ok...Let me rephrase," I said, grabbing a hair tie from the floor. I pulled it over my wrist, and climbed into the front seat. As I settled in the passenger's seat, I pulled my wavy hair into a ponytail. "You know how to put a bra _on_?"

James' brow creased in the middle, and his mouth pursed ever-so-slightly; in short, he didn't understand.

"In _my_ experience with you, you're skill lies in _removing_ that particular article of clothing from my body." I said, leaning back. I couldn't keep a smile off my face.

"Removing it?" James asked in a slow, low voice. He spoke like that when he didn't understand something. It'd taken him a while to be able to do that; for the first few weeks, I had to go by facial expressions and guess what he didn't get.

"Yeah, you know, taking it off me." I confirmed with a shrug. His brow furrowed more, and he turned towards me. I mirrored his look, and stifled a giggle. "If you don't know what I mean, _too bad_ because I am _not_ talking to you about _that_."

The confused look remained, but James looked back on the road.

"Where are we going, anyway?" I asked, grabbing a red HYDRA file off the dash.

"There's a research facility a few hours away." James said under his breath. "I was going to stake it out while you...I-I was going to st-stake it out while you...woke up."

I smiled a little, and let my head loll back against the soft leather. "No questions?"

James made a small grunt in response.

"No questions about why I broke down on the floor back there?" I asked, surprised that the observant assassin didn't have more questions for me.

He mumbled in various languages. I leaned closer slightly to hear better, and caught a few words in Russian, German and Spanish. They were all along the same lines; _normal_ , _expected_ , _average_.

"It's not normal, James." I sighed at him, rubbing the healing stab wound on my side. "It's normal to you and me because we're _not_ normal."

James nodded, his grip tightening on the wheel; both his flesh and metal hands. The wheel creaked from the pressure. I gently reached over and squeezed his forearm, and only let go when the metal plates clinked softly under his shirt and his flesh arm became less tense. I braced my elbow on the center council and rested my head on my palm.

"Could we be normal?" James half-whispered to me.

By then, my eyes had closed, but one side of my mouth tilted up. "Honey, normal left for _both of us_ when my ass was smacked back in New Jersey."

* * *

 _ **A little preview of what's to come...**_

* * *

 _Anna POV_

 _By my best guess, I'd been in this 15x15 cell for about seven hours. The walls were concrete, and the only light came from the window seventeen feet up the wall. I'd already tried to get to it, but I was tiny and there was nothing to stand on._

 _I was honestly more worried about James now. I'd done a pretty damn good job with the de-programming, but who knows what would happen if HYDRA gets all up in his head again._

 _Suddenly, several heavy clunks sounded behind the door. I stopped my pacing, and stood directly across from the slowly opening entrance. I knew I didn't look very threatening in a dirty red couture gown, no shoes and messy hair, but, hey, a girl can try._

 _Light filtered around the lone figure in the doorway. My eyes were still adjusting to the sudden light when someone shoved the figure in. The door shut behind him, leaving us in the dark. Testing a theory, I took several steps to the right, and he took a few steps to the left; keeping the same distance between us._

 _I was already planning out my attack; I did some quick math and came up with a 70% chance I'd come out on top. I still had the metal from my belt, with concealed a small blade. If I could get on his shoulders, one jab to an artery-_

 _"Oh." I breathed once the moonlight caught his face. I froze and tried to come up with a new plan. The confidence I had in myself, about winning, dwindled. Winning meant I'd have to fight him, and I wasn't sure I could._

 _A voice crackled over the intercom in the room; the speaker was 17 feet up in the left corner of the wall with the door._ _ **"You have your orders, soldier."**_

 _"James," I said in a strong, unwavering voice. "James listen to me. Listen to the sound of my voice, James."_

 _He just blinked. I exhaled in a shaky breath; they wiped him._

 _He had no idea who I was._

 _ **"You have your orders, soldier."**_ _The intercom spat out again._ _ **"Complete your mission."**_

 _James began walking towards me. He passed through the light; he didn't have any weapons._

 _HYDRA had James ready to kill me with his bare hands._

 _"James," I said again, letting my voice sound desperate. "James—_ _ **Bucky**_ _ **please**_ _...Please d-don't-!"_

 _A cold metal hand shot out, grabbed my throat, squeezed, and shoved me to the cold concrete wall. I choked in a breath, and grabbed his metal wrist as my feet dangled at least a foot and a half over the air._

 _"J-James..." I choked out. "You-You know me...I-I'm Anna-Annabelle Brightman...I'm your Glow. You-You're name is Bu-Bucky Barn-_ _ **Ahh!**_ _" I yelped out a short scream before my air supply with cut off completely._

 _With his new, tightened grip, James brought me away from the wall so my face closer to his. His shorter hair brushed his cheekbones as his hardened, stubble-covered face became level with mine. I looked pleadingly into his blue eyes._

 _I didn't have the air to actually speak, so I tried to get my paling lips to mouth one last plea. They just shook and trembled. Black spots started to cloud my vision._

 _When I first met James in the cemetery six weeks ago, his voice was emotionless and flat. He growled out his words like a caged animal just let free. Lately, his words were a soft, quiet whisper; he spoke like HYDRA was still listening to him, and he was trying to quietly rebel._

 _I'd never heard words spoken colder than what he told me as he let me dangle in the air just close enough so the tips of my toes brushed the cold ground._

"Who the hell is Bucky?"


	22. Chapter 22: His Favorite Possible Memory

**Ok! The next chapter! When I wrote this, I was a monster-chapter that was 37-ish pages. I split it up, so, here's the first part!**

 _ **!CAUTION!**_

 **THIS CHAPTER MAY CAUSE YOU TO HAVE INTENSE ANGSTY _WINTER GLOW_ FEELS!**

 **The next chapter will be up soon! I swear!**

 **Enjoy!**

 **~Christianne**

 **PS~ I'm sorry about this, but I can't remember which one of you awesome readers came up with 'Winter Glow' and James/Bucky and Anna's ship name, but I like it and you're awesome.**

* * *

Anna POV

 **November, 1944**

 _I was in front of my open wardrobe, fidgeting with the material of the gown I was wearing. I didn't let Peggy or Kára pick this one out; I picked it out at a dress shop myself. Howard paid, of course, but he said he was happy I picked something out myself._

 _Monty was getting a medal. The kind you have to dress up for. Most of the men going were complaining that they weren't going to be wearing their dress blues; this was a British military ceremony, not an American one, so they were wearing normal suits. Bucky, of course, complained the most._

 _My dress was made of dark, rich, burgundy velvet, and pooled around my feet (when I wasn't wearing the heeled shoes I had dyed to match it). There was black beading around the waist, just under the keyhole neckline. It was fastened with a small, shiny black button. The sleeves ended halfway down my upper arms, and I wore the bracelet Bucky got me for my birthday. I was playing with it as I examined my makeup once more; I was terrified I was going to smudge it._

 _I spun around when the bathroom door opened, and smiled. Bucky was wearing the stylish black suit with satin lapels and crisply pressed pants. He was fiddling with the bowtie around his neck with his head tipped back to get to it best. I walked towards him and batted his hands away._

" _You know how to tie a bowtie?" He asked as I undid the messy knot he made._

" _I used to do this for my brothers all the time...Their formal school uniforms had bowties." I said, smiling up at him briefly; he hadn't seen my dress yet._

" _The right tail should be longer than the left," I explained, lightly tugging on the fabric strips. "Cross the long end over the short one, bring it under the long one and pull it through the center up by your chin."_

 _I glanced up at him. "Fold the short end horizontally, so it makes the bow shape, and pull the long end over it. Fold the end of the long tail horizontally, so it makes another bow shape. Push the folded long end through the loop between the short end, and gently pull both ends until it's as tight as you want."_

 _After tweaking the tie once more, Bucky looked down at me. His eyes widened slightly, and his hands went to rest on my velvet-clad hips. His thumbs traced circles through the fabric, and he laughed once._

 _He sighed loudly, and laughed once. "It's just not fair," he sighed, leaning forward to press a kiss to my hair. "I should_ _ **not**_ _be forced to be next to you all night and be expected to act all proper and charming when_ _ **you look like this**_ _."_

 _I giggled lightly; I couldn't help myself. Bucky had been gone for more than a month, and apparently it bothered_ _ **him**_ _a little more than it bothered_ _ **me**_ _. He got back last night a little before midnight, and I was tuckered out from a marathon lab day, and literally smacked his hands away a few times. Bucky had places to be all day, and Monty's ceremony this evening; he was going to have to keep his hands to himself until tonight._

 _Not only because we had to get somewhere, but because Kára pointed something out to me; Bucky and I never celebrated an anniversary. We'd snuck off to an_ _ **intimate**_ _store which catered mostly to newlywed brides, and I bought this ridiculous, lacy, silk thing. It was a rather modest one, compared to what Kára left the store with. I'd asked her_ _ **why**_ _she needed the rather large pile of brightly colored, skimpy lace sets; she just giggled and winked at me._

 _I pushed the, slightly nervous thoughts, about later tonight out of my mind, and gently grasping the lapels of Bucky's jacket. "Maybe I should wear burgandy more often, then, if you feel like that."_

" _Darlin' I feel like that every morning," he countered smoothly. My head tipped downwards slightly as my cheeks flushed, and waited for Bucky to put a finger under my chin to pull it back up._

 _When he did, his other hand moved to press between my shoulder blades and the fingers under my chin pulled me up to his face. By the time our lips met, I was already smiling. I put a hand on his neck as his fingers pulled around the velvet on my upper back._

 _When we parted, I was smiling like a fool. My eyes were heavily lidded, and Bucky had his forehead to mine._

" _So...How long is this thing?" Bucky asked trying to sound casual._

 _I rolled my eyes and pushed him back. "Your teammate is getting a_ _ **very**_ _prestigious medal for the British Armed Forces, and you want to know how long it will take so we can come back here and ruin this_ _ **very**_ _neatly made bed?" I asked as I pulled on my shoes._

 _I gently swatted his chest with my small purse. "That's some dirty thinking, isn't it S_ _ **ergeant Barnes**_ _?"_

 _Pleased with the slightly rattled, wide-eyed look he had on his face, I headed to the door. I had my head high, back straight, and moved my hips a little more. I paused at the door._

" _Peggy said it will be a few hours," I said, reapplying my pale pink lipstick in the mirror by the door. "But...the car ride_ _ **is**_ _an hour and a half, though."_

 _Bucky's quick steps sounded behind me, and I squeaked as Bucky pulled me out of the door. By the time we got to the elevator again, we were kissing again._

* * *

I was in the passenger's seat of the black SUV James swiped from Fedot. I had binoculars to my eyes and a piece of really bad Russian pizza in my hand.

"I _hate_ stake outs." I sighed, glancing at James. He had been staring through his own binoculars without moving or saying a word for a good three hours. "What about you, Jimmy? Any feelings towards sitting in a car for hours on end?"

He blinked, then spoke in a low, gravely voice. "I like it better when I have a rifle."

I snorted at his answer, and turned towards him. "You know what, Jimmy? I like it better when I have a rifle too."

I waited a few more seconds, then spoke again. "You should say more stuff like that." I told him, shoving the rest of the pizza in my mouth. "You sound like a normal human being instead of a Soviet-brainwashed assassin with homicidal tendencies."

James turned to look at me with a mildly irritated expression (lips pursed a little, brows furrowed and lowered), but I was already focused back on the large, white marble mansion focused through my binoculars. I bit into my fourth piece of pizza as James slowly took his first; it was hard for him to eat food he didn't see me make.

The address James had been driving to was owned by Declan Grover; a young CEO of a French drug company. He spent most of his time split between New York, London and Paris, where he met with various HYDRA and mafia bosses. His mother came from a long line of Italian mobsters out of NYC and Sicily, and his father was the nephew of a low-level Nazi (but a high-level HYDRA); the _grossness_ was in his blood. It was his company and labs that made and distributed everything from experimental medications to help regenerate lost fingers, to ibuprofen.

Grover's labs created the cocktail of drugs James constantly had swirling through his veins while in HYDRAs 'employ'. I could only identify _four_ on the list of +30; and _that's_ saying something, considering my history with various pharmaceuticals and _non_ -pharmaceuticals . Without S.H.I.E.L.D.'s massive tech department at my disposal to crack into _Bioderma_ 's servers to get a look inside, and since TJ wasn't here to work his magic, Grover was the best chance to get inside.

He was hosting a big party for his best friend's engagement in a few days, so it was the plan now to pose as guests to get inside the mansion. Declan Grover was a _dramatic_ son-of-a-bitch; he liked to make a grand entrance before he went to the actual party. We'd get there early, sneak away after more guests got there, find Grover, force him to get into his system at gunpoint, tie him up in a closet and leave with the whole Bioderm server on a flashdrive.

"So," I sighed, putting my binoculars down and turning to look at James. "How do you feel about a tuxedo?"

The look on his face was as close to terror I'd seen so far.

* * *

I smiled, and threw the opaque white plastic garment bag off the hanger. "Thank God for Tobias Ashford," I gasped as I trailed my fingers over the smooth red fabric.

Toby had no connection to S.H.I.E.L.D., so it was safe-ish to contact him. The party-slash-mission was tomorrow, and Toby had five gowns, two tuxedos and accessories for both Jimmy and me sent to the local high school. I swiped them right after they were dropped off and brought them to our shitty motel. Toby spent a few years at the jewelry company in France, and moved on to fashion. Now, he worked for _Italian Vogue_ as a fashions buyer.

The first dress I opened was _perfect_ ; long and red, backless, a key-hole neckline that plunged down, and a slit up one leg. I'd measured James, and he was trying on one of the tuxedos in the bathroom now.

The door opened, and I turned. James had the tuxedo in his hands, looking down at it. He dropped it on the bed. "Too small."

"The other one's bigger, it should be fine." I said with a shrug. I was looking up at James with scrutinizing eyes. "Go in the bathroom."

His brow furrowed, and he grasped my arm gently while I moved to walk off.

"Can't avoid it anymore, Jimmy." I said, pulling out of his grasp and going to my bag. "You're getting a haircut and a shave."

I half-wrestled him to stand in front of the sink while I sat on it. He was standing between my parted knees, and I combed my fingers through his hair, dampening it with water. James' eyes began to flutter shut, and I had to smile; just like old times, I liked to play with his hair, and he liked when I did.

When the small, sharp silver scissors were brought to his face, he opened his eyes and jerked away.

I put them down, and gently grasped his chin to make him look at me. He did, and his blue eyes were full of muted worry and wavering trust.

"You have two options, Jimmy," I said softly. "You can close your eyes until I'm done, or you can focus your eyes on me."

He looked down, and blinked a few times. Moments later, his gaze focused on my face, and a slow, shaky hand came to rest just over my knee. I was wearing some shorts, so his hot flesh was touching bare skin. James seemed unaffected, but my leg twitched slightly in surprise.

I smiled at him and began snipping away at the scraggly hair. I wanted to cut it back so it was, so me, the proper length. But I knew if I cut it past his ears it'd be too dramatic a change for him to handle, and we had too much at stake. His gaze remained on my face the whole time. When I had to cut the back, his gaze was on my reflected image.

"There." I said as I brushed hair off his shoulders. I blew gently on his neck to get some stray ones, and saw goose bumps pepper over the back of his neck. I smiled, and pushed my fingers over them to make them go away. "All done...What do you think?"

The thick, dark brown locks now brushed his cheekbones, covered his ears and was shorter in the back. He looked more like a stylish, throw-back bad boy from the 50s instead of a _hobo_. I emphasized this by wetting my hands again and pushing his hair back. James shook it back out, brushing it with his fingers.

"Like it?" I asked again, moving to lean on the sink next to him, looking at his reflection.

James just shrugged, then turned an apprehensive gaze to the straight razor on the other side of the sink. I laughed once.

"Wow...Already to move on to the next one, alrighty then." I said, moving in front of him. I reached for the shiny silver razor, but a cold metal hand beat me to it. James dropped the hand quickly, and took a step back.

I waited a few seconds. "Ok...Ok, Jimmy, we can just do the haircut for now."

"I know how to do it." James said quietly. "The...The straight razor, I know how to use it...I know how to shave."

I raised my brows, and nodded once. "Alright then...Have at it. I'll be right outside."

I made sure James left the door half-open, and sat down to change the gold piece in the red gown out for a similar one which held a small blade.

Some time later, when James came out with his hair slicked back with water and patting his cleanly shaven face with a towel, I froze my face with a pleasant smile, even though I could feel my heart squeezing, palpitating and breaking as I saw the face of the man I loved. I could actually _see it_ now that it wasn't covered with a thick, scraggly beard and lengthy hair.

I gripped the dog tags around my neck tightly, took a deep breath and put on my game face.

"So, wanna go over the plan again?"

* * *

Omniscient POV

It was a little before midnight.

Anna was asleep in the hotel bed. She was on her side and had three of the four pillows behind her. Her head was resting on the one remaining pillow, and her face was peaceful.

James, in the other bed in the room, was dead still. He was somewhere between sleep and consciousness, and thinking about _Anna_. He'd begun to be more aware of his partner; the slender curve of her neck, the way her fingers nimbly threaded through his hair when she was giving him a haircut, and the way her small, toned, warm leg felt under his hand.

He'd drifted out of consciousness thinking about her. He knew that 'he' had known her before HYDRA took him, but he didn't know what parts of his memories of her were real.

He didn't know if the memories of her lips against his as he held her against a wall, her running her fingers over his bare chest while he gripped the small of her back. James didn't know if he really watched her make breakfast while wearing his shirts. He didn't know if he really held her when she cried, and she clung to him like a lifeline. Those memories he _wanted_ to be real; those memories wrapped his heart in a soft, safe, loving blanket.

It was the other ones that scared him. James didn't know if he really punched Anna over and over and _over_ until she went limp. He didn't know if he really stopped kissing Anna to kneel over her and choke her until she stopped breathing. He didn't know if he pushed her down steps and watched as she bled all over the floor, ignoring her chokes for help. Those memories burned and seared into his brain. The roared against the other memories, bouncing painfully around his skull until they burst and caused a tremor-inducing pain.

He had a favorite thought, though. James had a, _possible_ , memory that he knew was a favorite. It didn't hurt to remember it. It did the opposite, actually; he felt more...put together. When he thought about it, he didn't feel like the parts of him weren't shattered like glass, strewed about his own mind and piercing his skin when he tried to put them together. This one memory made him feel whole.

James was lying in a soft bed. He was naked under the seats and quilt, and propped up slightly by a pillow. He knew from the Smithsonian exhibit that he was in the apartment he shared with Anna during the war. Anna was there; her little, slim body was close to his. Her smooth legs were touching his under the covers, and she had the white sheets pulled up to her chin, where her fingers balled them up. Her blonde hair was curly; not wavy like it was now. The tight ringlets were spread out over the pillow her head rested on.

A few curls were in the path of the sunlight filtering through the windows. One of James' arms was spread out over Anna's head. His fingers, not of his own volition, moved slowly over her curls. They seemed to change shades of blonde before his eyes; the curls _shimmered_ in the light. It was like someone actually bottled up the sunshine that was pouring onto them.

Anna was relaxed. Her graceful face was void of worry, tension and pain. Her eyelashes were long; with the light over her, they cast long shadows down to her jaw, and brushed her cheeks. They were pale, like her hair. Her pink lips were still a little puffy from all the kissing James somehow knew they did the night before. James was worried about the reddish/purple mark on her lower neck, near where it joined her shoulder; he didn't know what kind of weapon would make an oval-shaped mark like that.

Her shoulders rose and fell steadily, making her hair appear to shimmer even more. Now and then, Anna's cheek would pinch, her brow would furrow, or her nose would twitch while she slept soundly. James was just a visitor in _Bucky Barnes'_ body; it was _him_ who moved his hand to trail the back of his knuckles over her cheek, not James.

Anna made this little noise, a small mewling purr that James thought was a sign of weakness at first. But then she moved closer to him; her warm, smooth body was pressed closer to his. Her head rested in the crook of his neck. Her soft breaths blew down his torso as her hands moved to press to his body. It wasn't too much longer before Anna opened her eyes.

Her eyes were a molten, golden brown. Darker around the edges, a lighter ring in the middle and flecks of gold throughout. They were full of...of _feelings_ James didn't have words to identify out of the multiple languages he knew. The look in her eyes made his heart pound a little faster, his head grew a little cloudy, and a warm feeling spread from his heart outwards; he even felt it in the tips of his fingers and toes.

Anna held the covers to her chest, and leaned over his body for a shirt draped over the nightstand. James' left, flesh hand moved to gently catch her face. His thumb brushed her cheekbone, and his fingers pressed gently to her jaw and neck. Both Anna and him were smiling as he pulled her down to a kiss.

Her lips were soft and warm. They were moving slowly against his, following his lead. She wasn't submitting by the kiss, not in the slightest, but Anna let James lead her through it. James' tongue mesh to her lips, which parted with a soft gasp from the small blonde woman. Next, he rolled to his side, put a hand on the bed and moved to hover over Anna's small, soft body.

It was usually then that he choked her.

Her eyes grew wide with panic. Her hands grasped his wrists, meekly trying to get him to let go. Anna's face grew paler and paler; her lips gave wordless pleas that didn't even register to James.

The whole night, until James woke up the next morning, he thought about Anna. She showered when she got up, leaving Bucky in his bed with his thoughts. He leaned up in bed when she came out of the bathroom.

"...-shoes, and I'm thinking of just cutting the hem a few inches...Where'd the scissors go? Oh! There they are..." Anna said, putting a knee on the edge of James' bed. She leaned over his legs, put a hand on the bed and took the scissors from the nightstand. As she passed back over James' torso, his flesh hand shot up.

Anna froze as James' large, rough, hot palm rested on her cheek. Her gaze locked with his; she looked down at his blue eyes. He was propped up on his left elbow; he'd gone to bed after her, and hadn't worn a shirt to bed. Anna could see the thick scars that came to a jagged line where skin met silver. She wasn't sure what to do; the last thing she wanted to do was something that would startle or hurt him (emotionally or physically).

Slowly, James sat up, his metal hand was behind him, propping himself up. As he sat up, Anna came with him and ended up sitting on her heel with her other foot on the floor. Their faces were inches apart, and Anna was wide-eyed; she was feeling similar to how she felt when Bucky first kissed her, or, more accurately, she felt similar to before Howard and Steve interrupted their first two attempts of locking lips. She was in mild shock and worried that she'd do something wrong.

James' lips parted, and Anna's fell open with a soundless gasp. His warm breath fanned her face, and Anna felt her eyes begin to shut. James kept his open, watching how she reacted when his thumb made a gentle circle on her cheekbone. Her breathing was stuttering, and her bottom lip was trembling.

He moved closer, and one of her hands moved to grasp his forearm. She squeezed slightly; trying to signal to him to _not_ move closer. James, though, took it as _move closer_. He did, and Anna breathed out one word.

" _Stop_."

James' brow furrowed deep, making a deep crease over his nose. He didn't move back, but he didn't move closer. His eyes searched her face as her eyes slowly opened, they were conflicted. He said nothing, and waited for her to say something else.

Anna's eyes were closed, and her face was sad. "I...I _can't_."

James' hand remained on her face, but there was a barely-there crestfallen expression on his face. He looked up at her questioningly.

Anna put a hand on James' cheek, feeling the scratchy stubble under her palm; like when she would wake up to Bucky next to her, she'd wake him up by tracing patterns on his unshaven cheek.

Anna took a deep breath and looked down at the broken, shell of the love of her life. She had to take another deep breath.

"You...You keep saying you're not _him_." She started, her voice quiet. James nodded. "I... _James_ , you have to know that you are _the most important thing_ to me, you know that right?" James' brows pulled together slightly, and he nodded again.

"But I'm still in love with Bucky." Anna finally said.

James' hand fell from Anna's cheek. He seemed to think very hard before speaking. "In...In the garage, before we left for Maine...You-You said..." James paused, and slammed his fist into his forearm, which began clicking and grinding unnecessarily.

"You said you loved me just like you loved him." James spoke in a hollow, broken voice. Anna's hand left his face, and she looked at him with sad eyes. "But...You _don't_."

"I do." Anna countered, leaning back. "I would do anything-I'd _die_ -for both of you...James you _have to_ understand how hard this is for me."

James' eyes narrowed, and he tried to look away from the blonde. Anna grabbed his face again.

"Every day for the past six weeks I've looked into the face of the man I love, the man who knew me best, the man who _saved me_ , _loved me_ , _cared about me_ , and have him know recognise me. I've done my best to be a little soldier like you need, and I'm asking you, _begging you_ , to _please_ not make it _harder for me_."

James could see the pain in her eyes; he could _feel it_ through her palms as they pressed to his cheeks.

The last thing he wanted to do was disappoint her. Though his mind was ricocheting and in agony over colliding memories and nightmares, James nodded up at Anna. His expression was vacant and numb. Before Anna left his bed to get ready, James reached out and let his fingers skim over Anna's leg as she stood.

James watched as Anna went to the bathroom, and didn't move until the door shut behind her.

The dark haired man frowned, and brought his flesh hand to his face. When he pulled it away, there was a shiny smear over it. There was an identical smear over his cheek from where he'd wiped away the single tear that went over his cheek _._


	23. Chapter 23: Not So Fast, Annabelle

Anna POV

 **April, 1946**

 _I was perched on the back of a truck with a clipboard on my knees. I had one hand holding the pen, and the other was gripping the tags around my neck. Each time Dum-Dum hoisted a metal container onto the truck, I looked at the label and checked the seal on around it before shoving it on the casters towards Jim and Gabe to stack up._

 _"_ _ **I can see it now.**_ _"_

 _I moved my gaze to the HYDRA that spoke in German; all I did was lift my brows and shifted my pupils._

 _The one who spoke was the only officer in the bunch. His black, pristine uniform was decorated heavily, and even with his hands shackled tightly behind his back, he was_ _ **smug**_ _._

 _"_ _ **You're awful life choices? Yes, I can see them too.**_ _" I said under my breath, turning my gaze back to the clipboard. I tapped my pen on the lid, signaling to Gabe I looked it over._

 _The officer chuckled. "_ _ **I was referring to the reasons for Dieter's infatuation with you.**_ _"_

 _I stopped breathing._

 _"_ _ **You are a**_ _ **magnificent**_ _ **little creature.**_ _"_

 _I looked back at him, but said nothing. I couldn't._

 _"_ _ **He spoke of you often; when you were in his care he was**_ _ **insufferable**_ _ **. It was only after your Sergeant Barnes killed him that I took his work somewhat seriously...You are a very bright girl, Annabelle.**_ _"_

 _"_ _ **Den Mund!**_ _" I snapped back in a half-gasp. I felt like an elephant was sitting on my chest, making it hard for me to breathe._

 _Since 'shut up' was a pretty well known phrase with the Commandos, it got their attention._

 _The officer, I think his name was Reinhardt, kept talking._

 _"_ _ **My condolences, Annabelle, on the death of your significant other. From what Zola said, he seemed like a strong-willed man.**_ _"_

 _I let out a short, choked breath. Jim put a hand on my shoulder, and Gabe tried to understand the rapid German Reinhardt was spitting out. Dum-Dum was mildly confused, but put a hand on my other shoulder as he yelled for Peggy._

 _"_ _ **Please tell me, Annabelle,**_ _" the HYDRA officer said. "_ _ **What does it feel like? Being a woman with the whole of science behind her, and being unable to save two men, who have done so much for you?**_ _"_

 _I choked out a sob and brought a hand to my face. It covered my mouth and nose while the other grabbed his—_ _ **my**_ _, dog tags so tightly I think my palms were bleeding again._

 _"Get him **out of here!** " Peggy commanded. The next thing I knew, I had two arms on my shoulders pulling me forward. I hugged Peggy back tightly as I sobbed loudly. Peggy rubbed my back, trying to calm me down and sooth me. _

_I could hear Jim and Gabe speaking quietly behind me; they were talking about how I'd been doing so good. It'd been one month since Steve died, and two since-...I knew my palms were bleeding now._

 _"I hope to see you again, Annabelle!" Reinhardt called to me. I peeked up and saw him being dragged away by Monty and Dum-Dum._

* * *

 **September, 1946**

 _"You're goin' out next," Howard said after a peek at his watch._

 _"I know." I said, straightening the string of pearls I wore around my neck. The dog tags I wore were under my shirt; they were cold against my skin, but I was too focused to care._

 _"You know, you don't have to do it." Howard said for the fifth time._

 _In all honesty,_ _ **he**_ _was more worried than I was. It was bothering me so much I told him that. "I mean,_ _ **I'm**_ _the one who's testifying."_

 _"Anna,_ _ **that's why I'm worried.**_ _" He said, emphasizing his words. I rolled my eyes and shook my head._

 _"Dr. Brightman?" A young man said, poking his head into the room. "It's time."_

 _I took a deep breath, squeezed Howard's hand as I passed, and followed the baif to the large courtroom. I sat down daintily in the witness box, crossing my ankles, shoulders back as I smoothed my skirt._

 _When the first judge was about to speak, I spoke first. "Pardon me, your honors...But I would like to request that I give my testimony in German."_

 _The eight judges looked at me in mild confusion. "Why would you like to do that, Dr. Brightman?" Judge Falco asked in his French accent._

 _"I am testifying against Dr. Werner Reinhardt. I don't want to divulge too much information without questioning, but I made a promise." I explained calmly._

 _The judges leaned back from their microphones briefly, then Judge Parker spoke. "We would like to hear the reason for your language change, Dr. Brightman."_

 _I nodded as I began to speak. "Earlier this year, in June, I met a boy named Erik." I paused, and slowly turned to look at Rinehardt. "He was..._ _ **harmed**_ _, by the actions of several men. Most of these men are unable to stand trial. Dr. Werner Reinhardt was one of the men who contributed to the_ _ **horrific**_ _things that happened to this boy. When I told him I would be seeing him once more at this very trial, he made me promise to give my testimony in German."_

 _The judges nodded. "Why?" Judge Parker asked again._

 _I didn't look at the judge when I spoke. I looked right into Reinhardt's cold eyes. Unlike last time I saw him, when I sobbed from what he said, I remained composed and calm._

 _"_ _ **Because, your honor,**_ _" I said in flawless German. Several judges and other court personnel quickly put on headsets and translators got to work._

 _"_ _ **Erik wanted him to be able to hear the testimony that will put him in jail for the rest of his life from my own lips.**_ _"_

* * *

 **1986**

 _"What the hell is this?" I yelled, smacking a file on JJ's desk. The dark haired agent looked up from his Chinese food, wiped his hands on his slacks (ignored the disapproving groan I gave) and picked up the form._

 _JJ looked a lot like his father, but the two weren't much alike. Jimmy liked sharp suits, old wine, sneaking into diplomatic parties and grifting the bad guys. JJ was more of a tactical gear, decent bourbon, sniper perch and knock out punches. Jimmy would_ _ **never**_ _wipe his hands on a suit like Jimmy did._

 _"It's an order of release for_ _ **Werner Reinhardt**_ _from the Rat." JJ said, handing the single paper back to me._

 _I put a hand on my hip and tapped my foot impatiently. JJ sighed and looked up sadly. "I'm not gonna get to finish my mu-shu, am I?"_

 _"Not until you get me the_ _ **idiot**_ _that let a_ _ **Nazi**_ _out of the Rat!" I half-yelled at him._

 _"C'mon Auntie! The guy is in his 80s! It's not like he's gonna do much damage!" JJ said, trailing after me with his chopsticks and food container._

 _"You don't know him." I said flatly, continuing my march to my office._

 _"What, and you do?" JJ asked, finally catching up to me. He threw his food in a trashcan we passed, and put his chopsticks behind his ear. "I know you were around at that time, but it's literally_ _ **impossible**_ _for you to know_ _ **every**_ _Nazi!"_

 _"I'm 70 years old and don't look a day over 25. Don't preach to_ _ **me**_ _about_ _ **impossible**_ _." I explained, pushing my door open._

 _JJ leaned on the door jam and crossed his arms. "What are you gonna do about it? Go hunt him down?"_

 _I jammed a full clip in my favorite gun, and threw it in my beige Louis Vuitton bag. There was a decent sized closet in my large office, and as I walked to it, I pressed a kiss to my fingers, then pressed them to the glass in front of a framed picture. It was a picture of Howard, Maria and Tony at his MIT graduation two years ago. I didn't go, but I bribed a clerk at the photo place to take an early lunch, allowing me to make a copy for myself._

 _"You bet your ass I am." I said, distractedly, as I threw clothes into my bag._

 _As I packed my bug out bag, JJ talked. I didn't listen until JJ grabbed my shoulders on my way out the door._

 _"_ _ **Anna if you leave now you're going to miss my wedding!**_ _"_

 _I took a step back, and looked at JJ with raised brows and confused eyes. JJ jammed his hands in his pockets and bashfully looked at the ground. "You know I've been seein' someone? In communications?...We've sorta been seein' each other for the last...year and a half."_

 _I narrowed my eyes more, urging him to go on. He peeked up._

 _"I..._ _ **I love her**_ _, Anna. I asked her yesterday, and this Sunday we're gonna go down to the courthouse...It's just gonna be me, her, and you and her best friend to witness." JJ explained._

 _I frowned a little. He knew I had a thing about weddings._

 _I missed Monty and Kiku's because I was helping to find out_ _ **what**_ _exactly the Nazi's in charge of the human experimentation at concentration camps had done to children._

 _I missed Gabe getting married because I was in Korea._

 _I missed Jimmy and Wendy's wedding because I was smuggling people out of East Germany._

 _I left Howard and Maria's wedding right after the ceremony because I had to get to a thing in eastern Europe that needed my immediate attention. I was given hell for that on their one year anniversary._

 _"You're not just making this up to keep me from going, are you?" I asked skeptically._

 _JJ shook his head rapidly. "No! No I_ _ **swear**_ _I'm not!"_

 _I sighed, threw my bag down, then grabbed JJ in a tight hug. I laughed and smiled a little when he was too stunned to respond to the hug right away._

 _"Congratulations, James."_

* * *

Anna POV

"Shit." I hissed. "Shit shit _shit_!"

James and I were in our formal outfits in the treeline around Declan Grover's mansion. We planned to wait for a larger group of people and walk in with them.

James caught my arm and pulled me so I was looking at him. His expression was one of mild confusion, probably at my swearing.

"Before guests get into the mansion, they walk through a metal detector," I told him. James blinked. Using the metal clasp of my small purse, I hit his left shoulder a few times. There was a series of dull metallic clanks, muffled by his jacket. " _You're not gettin' through a metal detector, buddy._ "

James frowned, and looked back at the mansion. He grabbed my arm with a gloved right hand, and started dragging me through the woods. "All the security is in the front," he said as I struggled to get the hem of my dress up.

"Yeah? So?" I hissed at him.

"All the security is in the front," James said again, still walking. "So, not all the security is in the back."

Realizing what he meant, I walked a little faster.

The back of the massive white mansion backed up to the trees, leaving only about 50 feet of grass between them and the big marble steps. There were five men there, and before I could say anything, James was marching towards them.

The first man got a disorienting punch to the face, and kick to the stomach. James grabbed the fabric on his shoulders, and hurled him at another guard They both fell against the steps with a _crack_. Less than a second passed when he took the gun from the holster under his arm and fired two silenced shots; one in the head of each man. Two more shots went into the man running down the steps and trying to get a grip on his gun. The remaining two men ran at James from behind. the gun broke the nose of one, and the other's collar was grabbed by a flesh hand. Three shots under his chin broke open the top of his skull. The clip was empty, and James dropped the gun from his gloved metal hand. He grabbed the fifth man's throat; he gripped it so hard the metal plates of his fingers dug into the man's skin and flesh. There was a short scream, a gushing, cracking sound, and then he fell.

During the eleven seconds James was doin' his thing, I was walking across the grass towards him. Once I was next to him, I put a hand on his shoulder. There was a _splat_ sound, and I saw a bloody clump of flesh fall from James' left hand. I took another glove out of my purse and held it out to him. He peeled his off and tossed it to the ground. While he pulled the new one on, I looked around the back porch.

"Nicely done, but how do you think we'll get through the-?" I was cut off by James thrusting his metal fist through the solid wood of the main back door. He grabbed the edge of the hole and yanked it forward. The hinges protested, but the door opened.

I sighed and waltzed ahead of him. "Admit it, you _like_ showing off a little bit." I teased him as he followed me. He said nothing, but he did glance at me.

We walked through the halls of the mansion with nothing other than the heavy footfalls from James and my own clacking high heels echoing off the walls. I could feel James' eyes on me, and I felt my shoulders stiffen. Since last night, he'd been quiet. Well, he was always quiet, but he was especially quiet.

Then again, he could have been looking at my bare back.

We turned a corner and Jimmy opened the large, heavy doors for me. He did that now and then; acted all chivalrous and gentlemanly. He had know idea _why_ he was doing it or what it meant, and he didn't really want me to explain it. I just let him open doors for me.

The massive doors were to Declan Grover's master bedroom. Over the years, I've lived extravagantly from time to time, but Grover was a dramatic son-of-a-bitch and he had a massive bedroom. Even _I_ wouldn't know what to do with all the space, and I have seven villas. _Seven_.

"You know the plan, right?" I asked, walking to one of the expensive chairs in the sitting area in front of the bed. James nodded, and stood behind me in the shadowed area. He clasped his hands in front of himself and straightened his shoulders. I smiled and crossed my legs as I leaned back. I moved the fabric of my skirt slightly so the slit fell open over my legs.

James made a small sound from behind me, and I rolled my eyes.

Before I could say anything about how I was _doing my job_ , the bathroom door opened. Light from it made the shadow James stood in darker, and I put my arm up on the chair.

Grover was humming to himself as he buttoned up the black dress shirt he was wearing. He didn't notice us until he was in front of the mirror. He stopped buttoning his cuffs, and stared at my reflection in shock.

"Before you think about pressing that _adorable_ little red button under the lip of your nightstand, I feel obligated to tell you that we're just here to talk." I said, smiling slightly. I brought a hand up to examine my manicured nails.

Grover swallowed, slowly turned around to face us. "What do you want?" He asked in a forced-calm voice. He had a slight Parisian accent, but it was mostly American.

"We you to log into your company's database." I said simply.

"Why?" He demanded to know, taking another step closer.

"Oh don't you worry your pretty, over-styled little head about that, Declan." I said softly, watching as he approached me slowly. The fear and surprise left his eyes, and they were replaced with a smug, confident glint.

"You know...I thought anybody who tried this would know not to send a _girl_." He said, chuckling at the end. "You may be pretty, but would someone like you _really_ warrant a search party?"

I heard a low growl start from James, and I held a discrete hand towards him, making him stop. I stood, one hand still holding my skirt. I smiled sweetly as I spoke "You don't know who I am, do you?"

"What's it matter?" Declan asked, reaching forward to touch me.

He didn't get a chance to; James had silently appeared next to me, and grabbed Grover's wrist in a painful, crushing grip. The CEO let out a girlish scream, and fell to his knees. From the ground, he looked between James and myself several times. When his eyes widened in recognition, I put a hand on James' arm. He let Grover's wrist free. As blood returned to his hand, he groaned in pain.

James glared down at Grover, making him shrink back. " **Don't.** _Touch her_." He snarled down at Grover, making him try to scuttle back, only to have James grab his collar and hoist him up.

"So, do you recognise me now?" I asked, smiling a little; James was holding Grover up so his face was level with mine, when I normally had to look up a little. Grover nodded. "Who am I?"

When he remained silent, James would his flesh fist back like he was going to punch Grover.

"Annabelle Brightman!" Grover yelped out. "Anna Brightman! You-You're Annabelle Brightman!"

I smiled. "Good...Now, who is _he_?" I asked, gesturing to James.

"He-He's the soldier," Grover stammered out, sending quick glances at James. "The-The Winter Soldier."

"You only get half credit for that one, Grover." I said, walking to his desk. I heard a painful wound of flesh hitting flesh, and when I looked over my shoulder I saw him on the floor. "He has a real name..." I said under my breath, pulling the laptop out of the carry bag.

"Bring 'im here." I said, opening up the laptop on the shiny wood. James grabbed Grover's collar again, and pulled him to the desk. He dumped him in the chair.

Grover had been making girlish noises every time one of us touched him. He was practically whimpering as he looked up at me, shying away from James.

"Go on now, log in." I coaxed softly, sending him an overly sweet smile.

Slowly, using one finger on his good hand, he pulled up Bioderma's servers and slowly typed in his password. Once it was done, I grabbed the back of his chair and pushed him away. The wheels squeaked as it rolled over the thickly woven carpet.

James followed him to tie him to the chair with the zip-ties he had in his pockets. As he walked away, he tossed me a small, silver flash drive from the breast pocket of his jacket. I plugged it in, and hit a few keys. A box came up, and the bar steadily filled with green as the servers were dumped onto the flashdrive. It was just past 67% when someone knocked at the door.

I looked at James, and he just stared at me. Grover had a strict 45 minutes before he went into a party where no one was allowed to talk with him; we hadn't considered the possibility that someone would come while we were here.

I left the computer (70% downloaded) and walked to Declan. "Who's at the door?" I demanded. Grover only shook his head over and over. I grabbed his hair, and forced him to look at me. " _Who's at the door?_ " I demanded.

"I-I was ex-expecting some-some representatives." He said, still nodding.

"From your company?" I demanded, raising a brow. Grover stayed silent, but when I leaned closer, a shaky smirk started over his lips.

"They're going to be _so_ excited to see _you_." He said quietly.

My gaze went to the doors, then to James who was walking towards the doors, reaching for his gun.

"No!" I said as loud as I dared. "James _stop_!"

He slowed, and looked over his shoulder. "It won't be hard," was all he said.

I yanked the drive from the laptop, and put it in my purse. " _Stop_ James." I said again, more sternly. "Knock Grover out, toss him in the closet and we'll leave through the-"

The door opened.

The double doors were kicked in so hard they hit the wall. Several men in pristine black suits walked in, and James again reached for his gun. I snapped at him under my breath in Russian, and he stood down.

The man in front spoke in French. " _Mr. Grover...I was under the impression that we'd be meeting alone._ "

"Pardon us, monseiur," I said in a soft, innocent voice. I threw in a French accent too. "We 'eard a commotion and came to look at our dear friend Grover."

James had slowly been walking towards me, and when he was close enough I put my hand through his arm. "It appears 'e had an... _altercation_."

The men in black looked at Grover, knocked out and tied to a chair.

"We will let you deal with this, yes?" I asked innocently.

One man nodded, and the others looked confused.

"You _are_ his security, no?" I put in again. This time, more men nodded. I smiled, waved slightly and gently pulled James to the door.

I was just about to step over the threshold when the sound of a gun cocking behind me, and cold metal pressing to the back of my head, made me stop. I gripped James' flesh arm tight, signaling that he should remain still.

"Not so fast," a French voice said lowly. " _Annabelle._ "

* * *

Somehow, I managed to get James to walk calmly next to me.

We were led at gunpoint down the steps, and Grover was carried down in the chair by three other men.

"Just stay calm James," I whispered, taking his metal hand in mine. I held him tighter when he tried to yank out of my grip. "Just focus on walking...Focus on just moving your feet, and the sound of my voice."

I kept whispering under my breath as we were walked down through the back of the mansion to the basement. The stairs were dark, damp, and absolute _murder_ in my heels. At the bottom of the steps, we walked straight back to the only light source on the far side of the basement.

"Take a deep breath, James." I told him, looking straight ahead. "I've been in worse situations alone...You're here, so we have more than a fighting chance." His metal hand squeezed mine, and I pretended my knuckles didn't feel like they were in a vice.

We stopped just inside the light. Several men were behind the steel table, all turned away from us.

"Sir," the lead Frenchman said. "We found intruders...They were not what you told us to expect."

"You and your men are highly trained, former special forces." The man with pale hair and in a gray suit said, not looking over his shoulder. "Some second rate burglars shouldn't be too much for you."

I patted James' gloved hand, then spoke. "If I wanted to _burgle_ you, you never would have known I was here."

The man stood up from the slightly hunched position, but said nothing.

"So, think you and your thugs could let us go now?" I said, cocking a hip.

It got real quiet, then a low, brief chuckle came from the man.

" _ **Sie sind ein großartiges kleines Wesen.**_ "

My brow rose at his sudden language switch, and I was about to snap back in German that was just as flawless, then he turned around. My throat contracted, but I tried my best to not react.

Adjusting his glasses, the man smiled wide.

" _Annabelle_ ," he said fondly, making my skin crawl. "It's been far too long."

Images flashed before my mind from the last half a century. In Germany, in an empty cell at the Rat, standing over a cliff in China, throwing a balled up file over it with a grunt in frustration, taking out my gun and shooting it a few times before it hit the water below.

" _Son of a bitch._ " I breathed. James' grip on my hand was painfully tight.

Standing in front of me was _Werner Reinhardt._

* * *

 **I know, I know, the German in here sucks! I wrote this on really sketchy hotel wifi, so be nice to me! :)**

 **Oh, right, the hotel. I'm visiting Minnesota for some school clothes shopping because there is absolutely nothing in the itsy-bitsy town I live in.**

 ***sigh* Mall of America, how I love you...**

 **Enjoy the chapter! I hope to have the next one up fairly soon, Thursday or Friday, I think.**

 **~Christianne**

 **PS~ ANNA AND JAMES WILL BE VISITING THE _AGENTS OF S.H.I.E.L.D._ IN A COMING CHAPTER, SO LOOK OUT FOR THAT!**


	24. Chapter 24: Because I Don't Want To

**Sorry for the late update! I was traveling, then I got home and had to do a bunch of things before I start school...which starts on Tuesday...*angry little growl***

 **Well, I may post a chapter tomorrow, but I'm not sure.**

 **Also, I'm aware that a bunch of dates are jummbled up and different from the cannon MCU and what I've written so far. It's not a real big deal, but...Eh. Thought I'd let you know. Oops.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **~Christianne**

 **PS~The more reviews, the faster I'll update! ;)**

* * *

Anna POV

My mild shock wore off pretty fast when Reinhardt started speaking.

"I go by Whitehall now," he said, buttoning his jacket. "Daniel Whitehall."

"...Good for you...I gotta couple new names myself." I said, distracted.

Reinhardt nodded as he walked around the table towards us. He didn't pay much attention to James, for which I was thankful, and stood in front of me.

"When I got out of the Rat in 1986, I heard stories about you, Annabelle." Reinhardt said, coming to stand in front of me. "How you helped build S.H.I.E.L.D. How you became one of the most feared, _potent_ agents on Earth. How you didn't age a day."

"I've studied you, Annabelle," he said slowly. "I've considered radiation, good genes...Just about everything other than godly intervention."

"I would love to find out what's going on inside your body that's allowed you to remain young for so long-" Has he spoke, a slow hand reached out towards me.

James' metal hand shot out and punched Reinhardt's wrist hard enough that he stumbled back into the table, his wrist jerked the wrong way and a sick crunch sound met my ears. The fist had hit with a vaguely metallic sound. The punch was almost too fast to see, but James still had every gun in the room pointed at him by the time Reinhardt stood back up.

He looked between his hand, at James, and at me. He stood back up and went to stand in front of James. They were face to face. There was barely a two inch difference between them, Reinhardt was taller, but James was broader, stronger. James would win in a fight between the two.

James' cold, unwavering, defiant stare was stone against Reinhardt's inquisitive one. They were less than a foot from each other's faces, not moving other than blinking. Reinhardt broke first, smiling.

"It's ironic, really." He said. "When you hear that the Winter Soldier, the Soviet's most valued assassin, is missing, you don't really expect him to be in _Russia_. It's just a little on the nose, don't you think?"

James just blinked at Reinhardt, and the muscle in his cheek, just over his lip, twitched.

The 111-year-old Nazi stood back from James, and, while holding his wrist, gave him an order.

"Soldier," he said, addressing James. "Kill the woman in red standing next to you."

James looked over at me, just a quick glance.

"No." He said. James' voice held the usual detached, rough tone, but I could hear the defiant notes Bucky's voice used to have.

Reinhardt laughed once, his brows raised, then spoke again. "Soldier, _kill her._ "

"No." James said again in the same tone. Reinhardt was getting visibly frustrated.

" _Soldier-_ "

"I won't kill Anna." James cut him off. His voice was low and quiet. It was so _calm_ ; it sent chills up my spine. " _I will not kill Anna_."

"And why not?" Reinhardt asked in a condescending tone.

"Because I don't want to." James responded simply.

Reinhardt, frustrated and angry, nodded once. "Fine."

He waved some men over, then looked back at James. "Wipe him."

" _No_ ," I said firmly, grabbing onto James' hard left arm. "Just-Just _wait_ a minute."

Reinhardt held up his uninjured hand, stopping the men who had barely taken a step towards James.

"Do whatever you want to me," I said in a shaking voice. "Hurt me, beat me, kill me—but for the love of God, _ **please**_ _don't touch_ _ **him**_."

Reinhardt put his hand down, and I was grabbed by three men. One was behind me and had an arm around my throat, the other around my torso. Two more were at my sides, each taking an arm. I was kicking, jerking my arms away and _screaming_ at what I was seeing.

I felt like it was all happening in slow motion. My own heartbeat thudded in my ears, and that seemed like all I could hear.

James had three times as many people trying to force him away from me as I did. The two arms around his neck stood out to me, as did the three-plus men trying to control his flesh arm. It was at least three on the the metal one and two smaller, engineer-like men trying to pry panels off to get at the inner workings.

I could see James' terrified eyes; they were locked on me and wide. His voice was muffled and far away. I felt like I was under water, and he was speaking to me from above. He screamed my name over and over and _over_. It reminded me of the terrifying footage of him, when they first tried to wipe him.

The pain I felt on the kitchen floor in London after Steve told me Bucky was dead was _nothing_ compared to what I felt now.

They'd disabled his left arm, and yanked on it painfully to try and get him to the chair on the other side of the room. There was a trail of unconscious or dead men that followed him and the other men. He was fighting to get back to me with all he had, but it didn't seem to be enough.

James was _screaming_.

I'd heard lots of people scream, and for lots of different reasons.

But in my entire life, I've _never_ screamed because someone else was screaming.

He was screaming for me as at least seven men forced him back into the chair. They held his arm and legs down as he fought, scratched, clawed and kicked at anything he could reach. My throat was stinging from how much I screamed, but I didn't stop.

I wasn't even forming words now; they were desperate wails that grew in my throat and came out so hard I had to close my eyes. I couldn't close my eyes, though, so I forced them open. Since I was forcing my eyes open, they were watering. My cheeks were wet, and it was so continuous that my neck was getting wet. It made it harder for the guys to keep a firm grip on me, but I didn't care.

The man behind me, his grip had been slowly getting tighter. My vision was blurry around the edges, but I didn't stop. I couldn't stop. _I did not want to stop._ It eventually didn't get to be my choice. My fighting slowed as I feebly fought off unconsciousness.

As I began to stop screaming and fighting, James fought and screamed louder. They became more terrified.

I saw one thing before a blow to my head knocked me out cold.

The faceplate of the chair was slowly turning towards James' head, blue electricity arched with a dry crackling. He was restrained, but had broken several already. At least seven pairs of hands held him down, but none of them could stop him from screaming.

As a fist swung at my temple, James screamed one word. One loud, terrified word.

" _ **GLOW!**_ "

* * *

Anna POV

By my best guess, I'd been in this 15x15 cell for about seven hours, going on how wound on my temple was healing. The walls were concrete, and the only light came from the window seventeen feet up the wall. I'd already tried to get to it, but I was tiny and there was nothing to stand on.

I was honestly more worried about James now. I'd done a pretty damn good job with the de-programming, but who knows what would happen if HYDRA gets all up in his head again.

Suddenly, several heavy clunks sounded behind the door. I stopped my pacing, and stood directly across from the slowly opening entrance. I knew I didn't look very threatening in a dirty red couture gown, no shoes and messy hair, but, hey, a girl can try.

Light filtered around the lone figure in the doorway. My eyes were still adjusting to the sudden light when someone shoved the figure in. The door shut behind him, leaving us in the dark. Testing a theory, I took several steps to the right, and he took a few steps to the left; keeping the same distance between us.

I was already planning out my attack; I did some quick math and came up with a 70% chance I'd come out on top. I still had the metal from my dress, which concealed a small blade. If I could get on his shoulders, one jab to an artery-

"Oh." I breathed once the moonlight caught his face. I froze and tried to come up with a new plan. The confidence I had in myself, about winning, dwindled. Winning meant I'd have to fight him, and I wasn't sure I could.

Reinhardt's voice crackled over the intercom in the room; the speaker was 17 feet up in the left corner of the wall with the door. _"You have your orders, soldier."_

"James," I said in a strong, unwavering voice. "James listen to me. Listen to the sound of my voice, James."

He just blinked. I exhaled in a shaky breath; they wiped him.

He had no idea who I was.

 _"You have your orders, soldier."_ Reinhardt spat out again. _"Complete your mission."_

James began walking towards me. He passed through the light; he didn't have any weapons.

HYDRA had James ready to kill me with his bare hands.

"James," I said again, letting my voice sound desperate. "James— _ **Bucky**_ _please_...Please d-don't-!"

A cold metal hand shot out, grabbed my throat, squeezed, and shoved me to the cold concrete wall. I choked in a breath, and grabbed his metal wrist as my feet dangled at least a foot and a half over the air.

"J- _James_..." I choked out. "You-You know me...I-I'm Anna-Annabelle Brightman...I'm your _Glow_. You-You're name is Bu-Bucky Barn- _Ahh!_ " I yelped out a short scream before my air supply with cut off completely.

With his new, tightened grip, James brought me away from the wall so my face closer to his. His shorter hair brushed his cheekbones as his hardened, stubble-covered face became level with mine. I looked pleadingly into his blue eyes.

I didn't have the air to actually speak, so I tried to get my paling lips to mouth one last plea. They just shook and trembled. Black spots started to cloud my vision.

When I first met James in the cemetery six weeks ago, his voice was emotionless and flat. He growled out his words like a caged animal just let free. Lately, his words were a soft, quiet whisper; he spoke like HYDRA was still listening to him, and he was trying to quietly rebel.

I'd never heard words spoken colder than what he told me as he let me dangle in the air just close enough so the tips of my toes brushed the cold ground.

" _Who the hell is Bucky?_ "

I tried to suck in a breath, and with what _pitiful_ amount I got, I forced out my last words.

" _Do it._ "

I closed my eyes and waited to have my neck snapped by the man I love. The grip on my throat loosened just a little. " _Do it,_ " I croaked out again, opening my eyes this time.

It was like back at his grave; if I was going to die, I was going to die looking at the last piece of Bucky I had left.

James' grip had loosened enough to let me suck in small amounts of air, but not enough to get a sufficient air supply in my lungs to uncloud my senses. My hearing was fuzzy, but my vision was just clear enough to see his lips moving.

"K-... _Kill me_." I rasped out again, expecting to finally be strangled to death. Instead, I was dropped to the floor. I collapsed to the ground, and braced myself up on my forearms as I sucked in air. The black slowly receded from my vision, and my lungs were painfully inhaling air as deep as I could inhale it.

"Get up." He said. When I didn't move, he gave my ribs a sharp nudge with the toe of his boot.

I put a hand up, stopping him from kicking again. I swayed as I got to my feet, and looked at him wearily. "Please...James, _please_ stop this." My voice was cracked and hoarse from the death grips my throat had sustained.

He said absolutely nothing; he didn't even move.

I took a slow step towards him, and didn't stop until I was within arms length from him. "Ja-... _Bucky_ , do you know who I am?" I asked softly.

"You're my mission." He responded in a dead voice.

"Yeah, I am. What's my name?" I asked, shifting my weight from foot to foot. He just blinked.

I took a risk, and slowly reached out. He flinched, which made me swallow a lump in my throat, as I put my palm on his cheek. His face showed surprise, confusion, and a slight underlying anger; just like when I was kind to him back in New York.

" _You know my name._ " I whispered, my thumb moving slowly over his cheek. His tense stance began to, shakily, falter. His metal arm smoothly slid out of the flexed position, but now and then ground back in protest.

"Close your eyes," I pleaded with him, putting my other hand on his face. He is face tensed, and a low rumble started in his chest. "Close your eyes for me."

I tried again, whispering softly. " _Close your eyes for me, darlin'._ "

His eyes fell shut automatically, and his whole body began to _vibrate_. He was fighting things in his head I couldn't begin to understand, and they were so powerful that they were affecting his physical body. I removed my hand from his face, and took a step back.

"It's alright." I told him softly, taking a step to the left. Eyes shut, his head jerked in my direction. "It's alright...Darlin' everythin' is gonna be just fine, ok?" I said in a shaky voice as I slowly, softly, stepped until I was behind him.

"I want you to know something... _I love you_ , understand?" I asked, putting my hands on his shoulders. "No matter what you've done, what I've done, or what either of us do...I'll love you 'till my dyin' breath."

While I spoke, a low growl built up in James' chest. It got caught in his throat, and he took a choked breath to get rid of it. I squeezed his shoulder, and it seemed to calm him down a little.

"Why?" He rasped. I stayed silent, preparing myself for what I was going to do. "Why do you... _love me_?"

"Because..." I started, tightening my grip on both his shoulders. "Because, in all that you've done, I've done worse."

What happened in the next 10 seconds happened incredibly quickly. Using my grip on his shoulders, I pushed myself up. I stepped on the back of his calf, getting him on his knees, locked both my arms around his neck and _squeezed_. James painfully grabbed at my hands, wrists and arms, but I didn't let go; I pressed down harder on the back of his knee. As he gasped for air, I pressed my head to the crevice between my arms and his neck and hummed.

I hummed _Angel Eyes_ into his hair and skin as he slowly stopped fighting my grip. First he stopped fighting. Then he swayed on his knees. After 8 seconds, he tumbled forward. I loosened my grip, but didn't get off him.

" _I'm so sorry, Bucky._ " I whispered into James' shoulder blade before I stood up.

By my best guess, I had twenty minutes before they came looking. I grabbed the collar of the thick, Kevlar-like material that made up James' jacket, and started tugging him to the other side of the cell.

Once I had him sitting with his back against the wall in the beam of moonlight, I moved to crouch between his spread knees. James' head as lolled forward in unconsciousness, and I gently tried to move it up, but it wouldn't stay.

Choking him until he fell was hard enough for me. Slapping him across the face was even harder.

James jerked awake at once, and began struggling in his own body for his surroundings.

"Soldier." I said, getting his full attention. "What is your mission?" I asked plainly.

He looked away from me and began looking quickly around the cell again. When James' gaze again fell on me, his brows furrowed. Just a little; a small crease formed between his dark eyebrows. His gaze became expectant.

"Your mission is to protect me." I told him slowly, making sure he understood. " _I_ am your mission."

James nodded. "You're my mission."

"What's my name?" I asked him, trying not to let the pleading nature of my qustion show. His brows furrowed again, this time in thought. I grabbed his chin in my hand, and forced him to look at me.

"What's my name, James?" I demanded, a little harsher this time.

He blinked at me, then breathed out his answer. " _Anna._ "

"Who am I to you?" I asked in the same tone.

James took longer to answer this one. "My mission..." He trailed off; his gaze flickered to various parts of my face. "You...You are..." His face pinched in pain, and his fists clenched in frustration. His metal fist jerked up to slam into his temple.

I grabbed his cold wrist and forced him to look at me. " _Breathe_ , James." I said in a calm, low voice. He followed my instruction and took a deep breath. The slight rattling when he inhaled made me worry, but I put it at the back of my mind.

"You...You are... _important._ " He finally finished. I smiled a little, just turning up on corner of my mouth. I released his chin and stood.

"C'mon, soldier. We need to get out of here." James as on his feet at once, and brushed past me while muttering ' _stay behind me_.' I snorted at him and smiled.

As he reached for the door handle, James shot a glance at me, standing next to him. He used his flesh hand to grab my arm and yank me behind him. I rolled my eyes, but they widened in surprise when he grabbed the door handle with his flesh hand. He pulled, and put his metal hand on the wall next to the door to brace himself. He used brute strength I didn't know he had in his flesh arm to rip the door clean off it's hinges.

I made a small, impressed sound that got me a harsh glare. I rolled my eyes again, but remained quiet. I followed close behind him; I followed the orders he gave by hand signal.

We were close to the door now; I could vaguely hear it opening and closing. There was still a maze of shelves and halls between us and the doors, _but we were close_.

"I...I know these men." James breathed as we stopped in a dark corner. He turned abruptly to me, and grabbed my shoulders, pushing me to the wall and off the floor. "I-I know them. W-Why...Why am I _hiding you_ from them?" He growled at me. Even though my feet were off the ground, he was still towering over me and glaring with wide, animalistically-alert blue eyes.

After hiding my surprise well, I kept a poker face when he questioned me. "James," I said calmly, but a strong undertone in my voice. It came out stronger when I spoke again. " **Put**.  Me. _Down_."

Slowly, his fingers loosened until I slipped through them to land soundlessly on the floor. As my bare feet hit the cold basement floor, I heard some voices coming towards us.

"You have to make a choice now, Jimmy. I know you don't remember how to do that, and that's ok but you have to do it anyway." I said in a hushed, rushed voice. "You can kill me now, hand me over to HYDRA, or you can protect me."

James' eyes didn't leave mine as the voices grew closer. They were from the two techs that had disabled his arm when he was being dragged away; they had sandwiches in their hands, mustard on their ties and small-caliber handguns on their hips.

" _You have to pick._ " I whispered to James before falling silent. He straightened up, and took a step to the right so he was directly in the path of the two young men.

They were startled, obviously, but calmed down pretty quick. They threw a few basic, half-assed commands at him, but got no response. They were about to just walk around him and get Reinhardt to smack sense into him, but James didn't let that happen.

James grabbed one young man's neck with his metal hand, instantly breaking it. His buddy had dropped his sandwich and started to fumble for his gun. When he got it out, James was dropping the dead body of the tech on the floor. I had taken a step to the side so he didn't fall on me, and put myself in the light. The remaining man shakily pointed his gun at me instead of James. His metal hand left the throat of one man and went to the wrist of the other. The small wrist bones made audible cracks under James' grip, and the gun fell instantly, but James didn't let go. His grip was so tight, in fact, that the man's fingers and palms were turning purple.

He didn't let go even as he gave the man a hard kick to the chest, loudly dislocating his shoulder pushing him to the wall. James finally released his wrist and pushed a metal hand to the sternum of the young man. He screamed out as the bone snapped like a twig, but it was cut short by a punch to the face. James began raining punches down on the young tech with his flesh hand. He didn't stop when the young man stopped struggling; he was _dead_ , not unconscious. It only took two punches at what I assumed was _barely_ half-strength to break the eye sockets and cheekbones of the tech. Two more to dislocate and shatter his jaw. I thought about stepping in, but just moved to stand in the shadows again.

When James finally stopped punching the young man, and let his body slide to the floor beneath him. There was a soft slopping sound as he fell. The bloody puddle of mutilated flesh, shattered bone and torn skin that sat where his face once was spilled over to the already blood-stained collar of his shirt. I didn't focus on him long; I've seen worse, _done_ worse, and James was grabbing at his head painfully.

His metal hand was ripping strands of dark hair out as it moved, and his flesh hand was smearing blood, clotted flesh and some small, sharp shards over his face, forehead and in his hair. I approached him, but didn't make a move to touch him. He surprised me by reaching out to me. His gaze hadn't left the mutilated tech, but his blood-stained right hand stretched out and grasped nothing but air before he found my shoulder. The same hand that had been curled in a fist and striking the face of an unarmed man gently took my shoulder. He used it as a guide to pull himself to me, instead of pull me to him, and it moved to wrap around my shoulders. His metal hand snaked around my middle, turning me away from the dead bodies and giving him a clear view of them.

"He...He was gonna shoot you." James said lowly, his chin coming to rest on my shoulder. I, of course, had embraced him back. My arms tightened, and I brought a hand up to stroke the back of his head once. The thick dark hair was damp with sweat now, as we the rest of him, but now that his hair was shorter I was having a hard time keeping back memories of hugging Bucky tightly when he got back from a mission.

Towards the end, he was in desperate need of a hair cut, making it about the same length as it was now. It was almost always a little sweaty, usually from him running up the steps because the elevator 'wasn't quick enough.' Bucky would hug me much like James was now, only he would squeeze me tight, then a little tighter as he lifted my feet up off the ground as he spun us in a circle.

"I-I _couldn't_ -" His voice was breaking and thick, but he cut himself off when more voices were heard around the corner. James' head left my shoulder, and he shoved both of us back to the shadows.

I released his shoulders, and again followed close behind him. I was more than capable of getting out of here alone, but with how James acted when a tech pointed a gun, _with the safety on_ , towards me, I let him lead me around.

He even reached behind me to take my hand at one point.

It was when I called him 'Jimmy' that he had a minor breakdown. I shoved him into a closet, sat with him on the floor, rocked him back and forth and gave him the crash course on how to be a real, independant person. By the time I was done, he'd remembered about 25% of everything I'd told him over the past month and a half.

It wasn't a lot, but it was enough. _Just enough_ from him to know I mattered to him.

* * *

I could smell the fresh, cool air from the opened door. James had taken out a handful of HYDRA along the way, I handled half a dozen on my own (much to his dismay), and it was a few hundred yards from paying off. I was already thinking of how to get James back to his mental state before we came here when he abruptly stopped.

There had to be fifty guns trained on us. The small red dots from the sights were clustered around my chest and James'. A single, slow-clapping figure broke through the gunmen. Reinhardt's pale eyes were absolutely _beaming_ behind his small glasses.

"Oh _bravo_ , Annabelle." He chuckled, approaching the circle made by the gunmen. "You and your knight in shining armor almost escaped again."

I clenched my jaw, and tipped my chin up defiantly.

"And this time, he really _does_ have the armor." Reinhardt continued, gesturing to James' left arm.

Suddenly, I was yanked forward, in front of James, and had a cold hand around my throat again. His other arm held my hands behind my back. I struggled briefly in response, but James hissed at me to _stop it_. I stilled, and saw how everyone around us reacted. The red dots were still clustered between us.

Reinhardt laughed once. "Do you think you can _outsmart me_?" He asked, talking to James, not me. In response, James lowered his head dangerously, looking at Reinhardt through his lengthy hair and lashes. "I've seen you work, soldier...I'd _love_ to hear you're _attempted_ thoughts."

If I could have spoken, I would have ripped him a new one for that.

"There's only one Anna." James said. It was a low tone, but loud enough for everyone to hear.

After laughing once, Reinhardt spoke. "Yes. _Yes there is._ " He spoke like James was a stupid, small child.

"That's why you can't kill her." James continued. The smug look on the Nazi's face wavered.

"I heard you talking before...You want to _cut her open_." James said. "You want to-to... _experiment_ _on her_...See what made her stay young for so long..."

Reinhardt got a little confidence back. "I can experiment on a corpse. You know that."

"There are people who want to talk to her." James continued to speak lowly, his hand still on my throat. " _Important_ people...They-They'd _kill you_ if you bring them her _body_."

"There is only one Anna." James repeated, eyeing Reinhardt dangerously. "You can have as many of _me_ as you can wipe...But you can't make another Anna."

Reinhardt finally looked at me, and I gave a minute shrug, as if to say 'you know he's right.'

After straightening his glasses, and tugging on his jacket sleeves, Reinhardt spoke. "Let them go."

"But sir-!"

"They'll show up again." Reinhardt said confidently, turning to look at the men by the door. They parted, allowing James and I to pass through. "I'll see you soon, _Anna_." He called after me.

James' hand left my throat when my feet hit the grass, and we took off running. Not long after, bullets were whizzing past us. I knew I was at least grazed twice, but it wasn't until I was falling to the ground that I registered the burning in my thigh. In the second that it took me to pass out on the ground, Reinhardt's last words to me rang in my ears.

Right before the bullets started, he'd yelled to me.

" _I'll be sure to tell Enrico that you say hello!_ "


	25. Chapter 25: The Stupid Soviet

Anna POV

I woke with a groan, and rolled onto my left side so there wasn't any weight on my right leg. My eyes opened as I heard the sound of something clinking and scraping against glass. I opened my eyes slowly, squinting in the morning light from the window, and saw James sitting next to the bed I was in, eating what looked like some sort of fruit preserves in a mason jar.

He was just staring at me as he ate.

Frowning a little, I cleared my throat to speak clearly.

"Watching me while I sleep...Not the creepiest thing you've done, but pretty close." I said as I pushed myself up to my forearms, but winced and fell back. James dropped his jar and spoon onto the table loudly and was on his feet before I hit the pillow again.

I pressed a hand to my side as I sent him an annoyed look. "Jeez...I'm sore, not _dying_." I said under my breath, pressing my fingers to my eyes against the brightness from the windows. I heard James sit down, then looked over his shoulder and through the open window. I saw trees and a growing dusting of snow.

"Where are we?" I asked, looking back at James.

"Finland." He stated, scraping his spoon down the side of the jar. "Just past the Russian border."

I nodded a little, taking a brief assessment of my body. James must have seen my muscles start to twitch and flex, because he spoke up. "Two grazes on your side and shoulder. A shot in your thigh, through and through. B- _Bruising_ -..."

I sat up again, slower, and saw a small crack form in the glass jar being held by his flesh hand.

"Look at me." I commanded him softly, but it didn't work. I pressed my hand to my side tightly, pushed myself so I was sitting normally, and reached out to grasp his metal wrist. "Look at me, you _stupid Soviet_."

James sent me an annoyed look, which meant he looked at me.

"If you blame yourself for _this_ ," I paused, moving my hand to the side to gesture to my arms, neck and my whole body, "then we have a problem, because _**you**_ , _did not_ , _**do this**_."

James wasn't looking at me. Under his breath, he spoke in soft Russian. " _You had older bruises._ "

I knew exactly what he meant; the smattering of bruises on my lower back, shoulders and neck. They were where James' fingers dug into my flesh when I held him as he fell apart. I knew he was leaving bruises, and I was honestly a little surprised he hadn't noticed them before.

"Hey," I said softly, reaching towards him with my good arm. He didn't look at me.

" _Let me see those baby blues, soldier._ " I said in Russian, laughing at how it sounded; it wasn't often that I spoke Russian and wasn't angry or shouting orders.

Slowly, he shifted his eyes to me. I moved my fingers in the 'come here' motion, and he leaned forward just enough so my fingers brushed his face.

"You're not going to speak until I'm done, ok?" I asked, and got a small nod.

"If you think I blame you, then I'm going to get out of this bed, and light you up like a Christmas tree." I said seriously, in a loving soft tone with a face to match.

He did something I never would have expected.

A throaty sound came up, and he soundlessly snorted through his nose. One corner of his mouth twitched up.

"Don't laugh at me!" I chuckled softly, pressing my hand a little harder to his face. "You know I will!"

James' throaty chuckle came out of his mouth this time. His lips fell open just enough for it to pass through. The other corner of his mouth turned up so he was smiling.

It was beautiful.

Bucky smiled _beautifully_. His smiles always started with a spark; that spark always turned to a fire when his face lit up as the smile reached his eyes. They'd glow and sparkle and make him look years younger; he didn't look like a man at war when he smiled.

I'd been fighting to keep awake ever since I opened my eyes, and it felt like I was losing. I sat back on the bed, and used my good arm to maneuver one pillow behind my back. "We'll talk more later, Jimmy." I sighed, smiling softly at him.

The cool, bluish light from the snowy windows cast a shadow over his face, which wasn't smiling anymore; when I was quiet, it fell back into the emotionless line it always was.

There were still flickers of the happy smile that had been there.

* * *

Omniscient POV

Anna had remained unconscious for the 36 hours it took for James to get out of Russia and break into the lonely, luxurious cabin in the Finnish forest. James changed her bandages more often than necessary, every two or three hours, just so he could have an excuse to touch Anna; be close to her.

The brief episode of consciousness she had were a weight off his shoulders.

When she threatened to kick his ass, he couldn't help but laugh; it was like a wounded baby bird chirping, and thinking she was _scary_.

But she was sleeping again now. James really wasn't surprised. Anna explained to him that if he ate enough, kept his blood sugar up, he could stay awake for a few days without feeling fatigued. She told him a bunch of things about himself that he didn't know, and what to do about them; he made sure to eat at least five good meals a day, showered every night, and didn't sit in one place too long.

While he tried to take care of himself, _Anna_ wasn't taking care of _herself_. In the recent weeks she had dark, bruise-like circles under her eyes, she hadn't been eating what James thought was enough for a person her size, and the wounds she sustained weren't getting the proper care (something he knew very well now that he was changing her bandages).

Anna was sleeping because she was tired; plain and simple.

While James was eating something sweet out of a jar (the cabin they were in had a massive stock of fruit and vegetable preserves in the cellar), his sensitive ears picked up the rustling of fabric from Anna's direction. The jar of cloudberries he'd been eating slid smoothly and soundlessly across the table when he pushed it away from where he sat as he stood. He ascended the stairs as quickly as he could, and stood in the doorway as he watched Anna toss and turn in the covers. Her face was pinched in discomfort, from how her leg was slung over the other, no doubt.

It was early, seven or eight in the morning, so the warm light was filtering through the windows. The snow on the trees was sparkling, reflecting the warm morning light and adding some flickering beams to the rays streaming over Anna's face.

James' mind had been consistently chaotic since he found Anna at the grave with his own name carved into it. There were moments of clarity though; moments where a more cheerful, bright voice creeped into his mind. That voice seemed to guide him mind in thinking.

It told him to notice how the rays of light hit Anna's face. It told him to notice how the shadows bent and curved along her dainty features. The shadows formed by her eyelashes went nearly to her jaw, and brushed her cheeks. James noticed how her lips were a soft pink, and seemed more beestung from the slight shadowing of the sun. The way her unnaturally straight hair fell over her forehead and swept over her face. Her slim body, tiny compared to his own, was curled tightly up in the heavy quilts James found and piled onto her body.

The only loving voice in James' head compelled him to walk towards Anna. His flesh hand shakily reached towards her. After finding the bruises he left on her, he was terrified to touch her now, but at the same time he _needed_ to touch her to make sure that she was ok. James' fingertips brushed her skin, and a soft, warm buzz flowed into his hand. He slowly moved his hand to brush hair off her face, and Anna moved.

James froze as Anna sighed softly, her face lazily nuzzling into his hand.

Her eyes opened just enough to see him and smile. She rolled over, her back to him, and sighed again. "Close the curtains," she demanded sleepily. The words had barely left her mouth before James began yanking the heavy curtains over the windows. The room became much dimmer; only some faint golden light glowed around the edges of the closed curtains. Any other person would have squinted to see in the room, but James had no difficulty seeing Anna.

He stood there, in her room, for a while longer. The soft, happy voice in his head urged him closer to her, and he didn't realize he had been walking until his knee his the mattress. Anna groaned under her breath and looked over her shoulder.

Her brows furrowed. "Are you gonna just stand there, Sarge? Or are you gonna get in and cuddle with your girl?" She flipped the quilts back behind her, and rolled back over without another word.

 _Go on now,_ the voice in James' head half chuckled. He didn't move an inch. _C'mon, man! A beautiful girl just told you to **literally** get in bed with her! What kind of human male **doesn't** get in the bed?_

James looked at the covers flipped back for him, then to Anna's back.

 _Just...Just get in the bed, lay real close behind 'er, put your arm around her torso...Might wanna shove your metal one under the pillows so you don't give her a chill._ The voice instructed James. He slowly did what the cheerful voice said, and got in bed behind Anna, flipping the covers back over himself.

The mattress dipped with his weight, and Anna slid towards him. The length of her body became pressed to his chest. She sighed through her nose and maneuvered herself so she was pressed even tighter against his body.

James quickly jammed his left, cold metal arm under the pillows under his head and Anna's, careful not to have the metal touch her skin. His flesh arm was all but shaking as he held it up, out of the way of their close back and chest so he could put it over her like he _knew he should_.

A soft shiver rocketed down Anna's spine, making her small body shake. She'd told him how his body temperature was much higher than her's, or any normal person. James gently put an arm around Anna. The moment pulled her closer to him, and since she was tiny he was able to have his bicep over her body by just leaning forward slightly. His elbow rested on the mattress in front of Anna, and his hand rested, palm down, near Anna's face.

His instincts told him to curl it into a fist, so that he could feel a little more in control, but he didn't want his fist so close to Anna's face. James never wanted his fist by Anna's face.

Anna's slim hand reached out of the quilts to take his hand. She tugged it under the blankets, maneuvered his fingers into a loose fist and tucked it under her chin. A sleepy, dazed smile spread over her face. James let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding as she gripped his hand.

James' eyes instinctively fell shut, and his head bowed forward to rest in Anna's mane of golden hair. He began counting the breaths he took as he listened for Anna's heartbeat to again fall into a slow, sleepy rhythm.

"G'night." She sighed quietly.

James was silent for a moment. "...Goodnight Anna." He said as quiet as he could. His lips brushed Anna's hair and neck, making her feel content and protected.

Anna said one more thing before she fell asleep.

"I love you Bucky."

James didn't move; his breathing stopped again. He'd listened to Anna talk about how he didn't understand 'love' all the time. He was beginning to think she was wrong, though. The voice screaming at him in the back of his head certainly seemed to think so; the voice had been professing his feeling for Anna since James recognized it was there.

Anna was already asleep when he responded, and didn't hear how he stammered and huffed quietly in frustration to get the words out.

"I...I lo-... _I love you too_ , Anna."

* * *

 **Sorry, my cupcakes. I said I'd have a chapter up soon, and it's been, like, a week or something.**

 **I'm also sorry this is short. Right now, I have Astronomy, AP Physics, AP Statistics and AP English kicking my ass.**

 **The next chapter will be up...Actually, I don't know when the next chapter will be up.**

 **Keep an eye open for it, m'kay?**

 **~Christianne**


	26. Chapter 26: Excuse Me, While I Disappear

**The next chapter is here!**

 **This is setting up for a bigger thing, which you'll soon be able to tell. It's a little fluffy, but I'm pretty proud of it.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **~Christianne**

* * *

 _ ****WARNING: THIS CHAPTER MAY INDUCE MANY WINTER GLOW FEELS!**_

* * *

 **10** _ **Months Later...**_

Anna POV

If my head hadn't already been thrown back into the overstuffed seat back, it would have been thrown back pretty quick. I was biting down on my lip so hard I'd long since gotten used to the taste of blood in my mouth.

"You just _had_ to do it _now_." I hissed out through gritted teeth. James, who was kneeling down between my knees, just grunted in response. "We're on a **freakin** ' _train_ and you just _insisted_ on doing this _now_."

Right now, we were in a private cabin on a train going from Munich to Warsaw, and I've _never_ been so happy for dark green velvet curtains in my life; my pants were on the floor, and I _really_ didn't want people to see what James was doing to me at the moment.

"Stop talking." He said simply, lifting his gaze briefly to look at me. "The more you move, the harder this is."

"Oh _shut_ _ **up**_ and _get back to it_ ," I moaned in frustration, grabbing the back of his head and angling it back down. James just muttered something in Dutch, then got back to work. I gave him a sharp cuff to the ear when I heard _lastig_ (the Dutch word for _difficult_ ) come out of his mouth.

I wiped some bloody spit that had dribbed out of my mouth off my chin, and before I could clamp my mouth shut again, I let out a harsh yelp when an unexpected pinch came. I'd been trying to keep my mouth shut (I knew from previous experience that these walls were a lot thinner than they seemed), which was pretty hard considering what James was doing.

"You're _still_ moving." He grunted at me, moving his left arm up from the floor to brace his elbow over my knee, and put his cold palm on my other knee in an attempt to keep me still. "...It's just gonna _hurt_ unless you _stop moving_."

"It doesn't _have_ to _hurt_ at all!" I hissed at him through clenched teeth. "I was doin' _just fine_ -"

"You needed this and we both know it," James cut me off, lifting his head again. I made a face at him, which made him scowl.

"Almost there...Here, bite on this." He said, shoving the sleeve of his discarded leather jacket in my mouth. I bit down on it hard, and hoped I did some damage to his favorite article of clothing.

I let out a muffled, clenched half-scream about thirty seconds later.

James leaned back from his close place between my knees and pressed a thick square of gauze to the clean, straight cut on my thigh (that was currently spewing blood) with his metal hand. His flesh hand held a pair of tweezers, and most of a bloody, mashed bullet between the prongs.

I spat his jacket out of my mouth and glared at him. "All this trouble for a shitty piece of lead," I huffed, batting his hand away to hold the gauze to my leg myself.

"It hurt you to walk on it." James said dismissively, tossing the bullet to the black plastic tarp we'd spread out before starting up this whole thing. "I saw you limp."

"Yeah, and I saw you shove seven glazed donuts in the trash back in Minsk." I snapped at him.

"Copper." James said, ignoring my accusation about the donuts completely. He got the red plastic kit again, and began digging through it.

"What?" I asked him, moving my hands to let him clean up my thigh.

"The bullet is copper...Not lead." James said under his breath. I closed my eyes, put my head back, and crossed my arms over my eyes.

It'd been almost a year since James came into my life. I stopped thinking of him as Bucky a long time ago. There were moments between us that reminded me of him. Bucky was in there, somewhere in the depths of his subconsciousness, but the hope I had that he would one day come back to me was dwindling more and more everyday.

The bullet, thank the Lord, had missed major arteries and veins, but tore through tendons and muscle. I was used to having far worse injuries, but I was also used to having access to the vast array of S.H.I.E.L.D. regenerative services (lasers, serums, _everything_ ), and I had contacts that S.H.I.E.L.D. couldn't convince to work for the government, and were too valuable to force who did the same thing. I checked with my contacts, and all 21 were dead, so I had to stick it out for the normal amount of healing time. Six months in I could walk again. Eight in I could walk _unassisted_. It wasn't until three weeks ago that I felt good enough to get back to it.

"You don't need stitches for this," James said, pressing clean gauze to my leg. "I'll...I'll just-...I'll wrap it."

"Mm-hm." I sighed out through my nose, thinking of other things.

As much as James improved, he wasn't anywhere _near_ stable enough to do any operation by himself. HYDRA still needed to be dealt with, but neither of us could do it. We (and by _we_ , I meant me) reached out to S.H.I.E.L.D.s sister agencies, but they weren't in the best shape either. S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't the first intelligence agency, but it was the first of it's kind. Almost every friendly organization (and some unfriendly) were offshoots of S.H.I.E.L.D. in some form or another. HYDRA stuck to the original, but a few operatives were found in other agencies.

A few months ago, we started reaching out again. Some HYDRA compounds and strongholds were broken by small groups of U.N.C.L.E. agents, and a few of Charlie's former students who didn't mind getting their hands dirty. I thought about calling Phil a hundred or more times, but he had enough to deal with in-house without me asking him to send what few S.H.I.E.L.D. agents where were left to do my dirty work against HYDRA.

I wormed my way into the new S.H.I.E.L.D.'s mainframe, and saw they had Reinhardt covered. I wanted to wring his scrawny Nazi neck myself, but if Phil and his team were on it, he'd be taken care of. So, I turned my focus to Slavic.

After he killed Penny, Enrico Slavic went back off the grid. I hunted him for a good eight years before I had to let it go. _I'll find him when I find him_ I told myself over and over the day I had to tear down the papers and thread off the map in my office. What Reinhardt yelled to me ran circles around my head for weeks; Enrico was with HYDRA. I should have known, I guess. If he hated me so much I have _no trouble_ believing that he'd join HYDRA.

James didn't want me to jump right back in like I wanted, so we settled on a smaller operation in a former button factory just outside Raszyn (a town Southwest of Warsaw). And when I said 'smaller operation,' I meant it was _peanuts_. The last time I did a mission this small, I was still wearing bright red lipstick and kohl around my eyes. Our information indicated that the button factory was now a HYDRA technological hub where cover identities and phoney documents were pumped out like water. This was sort of a double mission; take down a HYDRA hold, _and_ get our hands on some clean names.

"There," James said, gently swatting the knee of my good leg with his flesh hand as he stood up. "I'll change the dressing before we get to Raszyn."

"I can change a dressing on my own, you know," I sighed, pulling on the pair of stretchy tactical pants that had been discarded to the floor 45 minutes ago. Once I had them on, James opened up both sets of curtains; the ones on the doors to the rest of the train, and the ones to the countryside flying by out the windows.

James sat down next to me, hands on his knees, and stared straight ahead at the seats across from us. I scooted closer to him, and took his flesh hand in mine. James tried to pull it away, but I wouldn't let him.

A month or so ago, I got really fed up with him. He doted on me like a boyfriend, but couldn't hold eye contact for more than a few seconds. He counted how many bites of food I ate, but he always made sure our knees never touched under the table. He would sit close to me when he knew I was cold, but his torso was angled away from me. Like I said, I was _fed up with him_ , so I just decided to act like a couple. I didn't have plans to kiss him out in public or anything like that (it'd be nice though), but I didn't give up when he moved away from me, and intentionally put my knee against his. I think it was working to; yesterday I put my hand on his knee in the car, and he didn't jerk away from me.

The train whistled, and began to slow down. James balled up the black plastic tarp and threw it out the train window while I packed up our bags. We checked our clothes and other belongings we didn't mind having xrayed, but our weapons, information and _secret_ things were in our bags.

All together, our four duffles weighed upwards of 150 pounds, but James' left, metal arm had no problem lifting them. His other hand was around my waist, helping to hide the slight limp in my leg.

We'd become very good at working with each other and not saying a word. He helped me walk to the main station. I took two bags and went to rent a car with the money I lifted off a snotty businessman before we left Munich, and James went to get the trunk we checked, all without exchanging a single sentence to each other.

A few hours later, I was collapsing onto the bed in the modest, abandoned house we picked to spend our days in Raszyn in. When I tried to change the dressing on my leg, James made me sit back down on the bed so he could do it. It didn't even _need_ to be changed yet.

"I'm perfectly capable of doing that on my own, you know," I reminded him for the umpteenth-time, not bothering to put my pants back on. Instead, I stood, stretched, then got under the covers of my bed. "I'm a big girl."

James nodded wordlessly, tossing the bloody bandages in a trash can before moving to his duffle bag. He grabbed the back of his thermal shirt and pulled it over his head. I rolled my eyes as he unbuttoned his pants, then grabbed the hem of my oth t-shirt and pulled it over my head. That was on of the first things I noticed that meant he was getting better; he had no problem stripping down in front of me. At first I thought it was because HYDRA didn't treat him, well, like he was human. Turns out he minded walking around in just a shirt as much as Bucky did, and Bucky didn't mind _at all_.

I'd thrown caution to the wind, and started dropping my pants in front of him a few months back. It wasn't like we looked at each other, or changed facing one another; it was an oddly intimate thing. Now and then I'd watch him change his shirt, only when he wasn't facing me; I'd watch the strong, defined muscles of his back ripple and stretch under his skin, marred with meticulously healed scars, and the shiny plate of metal that curved over his shoulder blade outlined by the line of white scarring. I was also happy that, now and then, he'd sneak a peek at me. It was a very Bucky-like way he looked at me; glances under his arm to my back and sides with half-glazed over and appreciative eyes.

Once my soft, worn out pajamas were on my body, I stood up, winced from my leg, grabbed the small, dated radio from the floor and fell the bed right next to him. He had his back against the dated, peeling wallpaper that covered the chilly walls of the Polish house we were holed up in. I messed with the dials until some music was playing, then dropped it on the nightstand. Music played, breaking the silence, and I let out a sigh of relief.

James' whole body stiffened when I moved closer to him. I wrapped my arms around his flesh one and rested my cheek on his shoulder. "Don't bother throwing a blanket over me...You're still like a space heater." I mumbled when I heard his arm whir, click and slide as he reached for the blanket at the foot of the bed.

He pulled the blanket over my shoulders anyway, and I really didn't mind; it _was_ a little chilly in the bedroom we would be sharing. That's another thing we'd begun to do now and then; share a bed. James really wasn't too crazy about it (once his left arm flung over and gave me a nasty bruise on my arm) but when it was cold enough like this, and plain old quilts just weren't doing the trick, he knew better than to fight me about it. The music was playing low from the grainy radio on the nightstand, and the moonlight coming through the torn curtains paired together made an intimate little setting.

I was half asleep when the first notes of the song played. I expected my heart to start going faster, but the steady _thum-thump_ of my heart stayed the same.

"I know this song." James said suddenly. I looked up quickly, and saw his face staring blankly at the wall in front of us; his pupils lazily drifted from the dusty frames and peeling paper on the walls to the windows now and then.

"You do...?" I asked, not the slightest bit ashamed of how much hope was in my voice. He just nodded, making his lengthy hair brush his face.

" _Try to think that love's not around  
But it's uncomfortably near  
My old heart ain't gaining no ground  
Because my angel eyes ain't here_," Ella sang through the radio.

I got up off the bed, keeping the blanket around me like a cape, and held my hand out. James' brow furrowed, and he just looked at my hand. I gave him a knowing smile and tilted my head one way. "Aw, c'mon now Sarge...Can't you spare a dance for your best girl?"

His flesh hand was in mine instantly; he never could resist doing what I asked when I sweet talked him. James got to his feet quickly, and just stood there in front of me.

" _Angel eyes, that old Devil sent  
They glow unbearably bright  
Need I say that my love's misspent  
Misspent with angel eyes tonight_"

"C'mon...You remember how to dance, right?" I asked, twisting our bound hands so his was resting on the small of my back. James wasn't as good as hiding his apprehensive face as he thought he was; his brows were still furrowed and lifted on his forehead, his eyes were wider than normal, and his lips were slightly parted. "Just relax, Jimmy...It'll come back to you, sweetheart."

" _So drink up all you people  
Order anything you see  
Have fun you happy people  
The laughs and the jokes on me_"

Slowly, his metal hand came up to grasp mine. I let out the softest little yelp when the soft skin of my palm caught between the plates of his hand. He jerked a step back, but I held on tightly to his flesh hand and gave him a warning look. James slowly stepped back towards me, and again took his hand in mine. This time his hand clasped much slower around mine. He must have sensed how I was favoring my one leg, so his hand moved to grip that hip tighter, and pulling up ever so slightly, just enough to take some weight.

" _Pardon me but I got to run  
The fact's uncommonly clear  
Got to find who's now number one  
And why my angel eyes ain't here  
Oh, where is my angel eyes_"

We'd began to sway back and forth softly, our feet barely leaving the floor. James' flesh hand left my waist only once to lift the blanket back over my shoulders. Once his hand was on my back again, I slowly let my eyes close, and my cheek move to rest against the soft material of his cotton, long-sleeved shirt. I inhaled deeply, and reveled in the smell that clouded my brain; it was _Bucky_. It was like we were in our apartment back in London, with a record he swiped from Howard on the turntable and a bottle of wine I won from Peggy open on the table; both of us warm and safe from the war and turmoil going on outside the the thin walls.

The steady beating of his heart and all but drowned out the music playing. A soft, content sigh left my lips, and I turned my face into his chest, pressing harder. I felt the end of my nose press against the cold edge of his shoulder plate, but I didn't move away.

I sang the last phrase of the song with Ella, letting a small smile creep over my face.

" _Excuse me while I disappear...Angel eyes, angel eyes..._ "


	27. Chapter 27: M'Kay Sweetie?

**I'm so sorry it took me so long to post!**

 **School is still kicking my ass, so, yeah...**

 **This chapter is just a little thrown together. So, sorry. The next one is really nice though. :)**

 **~Christianne**

* * *

Anna POV

"You ready Jimmy?" I asked, adjusting the belt on my hips, glancing at James with a little smirk. He nodded wordlessly and jammed the full clip into his gun. He put a round in the chamber, then opened up the door to the black SUV. I half smiled, rolling my eyes, and got in the driver's seat.

My leg was still bothering me, and with James watching me like a hawk, I couldn't use my _other_ methods of working through the pain. So, James would be the only one going in. I fashioned a earpiece for him that looked somewhat like a hearing aid. There was a part in his ear which had a signal twice as strong as a normal earbud, and a second piece that curved around the back of his ear with a small camera. I would be watching James' every move from the SUV parked outside.

James would first sneak into the mainframe servers, takeout anyone there, and plug in a flash drive to the main ports so I would have eyes on the whole place allow let her start sifting through all of HYDRA's dirty laundry. Once James secured the rest of the facility (locking the people in the basement, not killing them) anna would join him inside and they would whip up a few fake papers, and after leaving a tip for the Avengers, they'd be on their way.

While I drove to the button factory, my mind wandered to my team back in New York. A few months after S.H.I.E.L.D. fell, Tony revealed _Avengers Tower_ in New York. It was the base of operations for the team, and they were kicking some _serious_ ass. Like I promised, I made contact with someone on the team every six weeks or so. Clint and Laura were having another baby; it was going to be named Natasha if it was a girl. Tony was still a little harsh with me when we Skyped a few times, but I knew he was just worried. Bruce Banner and I made contact through a Scrabble rip-off website, and had a friendly competition going on who could cram the most long, scientific words into the boxes. Natasha and I kept in contact through a series of accounts on outdated children's websites like Club Penguin and WebKinz. She had a blue kitten named Melody that was bst friends with my grey kitten. Kára was concerned; she had seen me at my worst moments, and wasn't totally convinced that running around Europe with my brainwashed boyfriend was the best idea. Steve, though...When I spoke to Steve, the dark, heavy pit of guilt in my stomach grew every time. He was so worried about me out alone in the world, and equally worried about Bucky alone in the world; Steve still thought that we had parted ways. They all did.

"You're thinking about them." James said flatly, staring out the windshield. In the dark, he had a near perfect reflection of my face to look at.

"Yeah," I responded in the same emotionless voice.

They sat in silence for the rest of the ride.

"You know, I have my gun loaded..." I half sang as James got out of the car. He just glared at me.

"Alright, I'll stay here." I groaned, leaning back in the seat. "Want to go over how to instal the drive again?"

"No." James said simply, adjusting the earpiece.

I rolled my eyes. "Well? What are you waiting for?"

His sharp blue eyes were resting on my leg. "Are...Are you sure you don't want...want me to...me to...stay with you?" He finally asked, glancing up at me. His eyes weren't as sharp, and held a soft, almost childlike, worry. James was dressed all in black, but he refused to wear something dark over the bottom half of his face. Instead, while I was creating a computer virus, he found something dark to smear around his eyes and down his cheeks. He looked like the S.H.I.E.L.D. footage from a year ago.

I smiled, and lightly shoved his shoulder. "Now go kick some ass," I said, lightly grasping his chin, making him look at me without the worry. "I'll be waiting for your signal, m'kay sweetie?"

James' cheek and one corner of his mouth twitched up when I called him 'sweetie.'

He didn't like it very much. That's why I did it every two minutes.

"What are you going to if you see an unarmed HYDRA?" I asked, keeping my hand on his cheek to he wouldn't look away from me.

"Detain them...Not kill them." James said in a slow, serious voice.

"And if they resist?" I asked, raising a brow.

"Maim. Not kill."

"And maim entails...?"

"Anything that can heal in a year and leave a scar under five inches."

I smiled, but it was only half real. He was slowly relearning humanity, but the fact I had to teach it to him in the first place made my stomach churn.

I adjusted his earpiece, then gave him a light smack on the shoulder. "Go on then," I half-chuckled. "Go maim some ass."

James turned and started jogging towards the building.

I closed the door behind him, and turned in my seat to look at the laptop. I hit a few keys, and the footage from James' camera came up. It wobbled from him moving, and it was a little fuzzy and dark; the thick concrete walls interfered with the signal.

James pushed open the door on the north side of the wall with his left hand. The metal squealed quietly in protest, but broke apart like it was clay rather than iron. For such a _large_ man, James was near silent when he walked; he was like Steve in that respect. He passed by several unarmed HYDRA, giving them each a swift punch to the temple, knocking them out cold.

I brought the microphone to James' earpiece to my mouth. "You passed a door about 70 yards back," I said, clicking a few things on my screen. "Should be a secure storage room, you can put your K-Os in there."

" _Copy_." James said gruffly, taking the collars of two HYDRA agents in one hand and three in the other. He dragged them to the door, opened it up, tossed them in, then jammed the large lock down.

It took 45 minutes for James to secure the entire building. I was right in that the HYDRA hold was full of art and tech nerds, with only half a dozen guards. James drew his gun, and after repeating what I said through his earpiece, got the 43 HYDRA identity creators to walk, hands up, to the storage room, which they were promptly locked up in tight.

"You did good, Jimmy," I said as I walked into the building, smiling wide under the blue and white paisley bandana wrapped around my mouth and nose; I wasn't taking any chances of being recognised after the heat we got back in Russia. James looked down in response, slowly putting the gun back in the holster at his side. I stopped next to him, our torsos facing opposite directions. "It's ok to be proud, you know." I said under my breath, glancing at him.

"I know." James said, straightening out his shoulders and looking straight ahead. "But...I don't think he'd be proud about it." I was stunned at what he said, and before I could turn to look at him full on, he walked away from me. "I'm...I'm going to bring the truck closer to the entrance."

I turned to watch him leave, and shut the door behind himself.

There was a muffled roar, followed by a loud slam onto the concrete next to the door. This happened over and over and _over_ until a large crack appeared in the wall. I heard the distant, quiet sound of the truck start moments later. I thought about trying to talk to him, but I knew it would do more harm than good.

I hoisted my bag up my arm, and walked to the large loop of computers and printing presses in the middle of the large, open factory.

* * *

"Alrighty then," I said, grabbing James' flesh hand, turning it rightside up and smacking a pile of papers into it. "Take a look."

As much as I hated to admit it, HYDRA had a very sophisticated setup going. It only took me an hour to set Jimmy and I up with 13 fake passports each, a handful of IDs, birth certificates and social security numbers.

"These...These are..." James trailed off, flipping through the papers. "These are _weird_ names."

"Yeah," I nodded, stuffing my own papers into my bag. "They're weird enough for someone to stop and take a second look, but discreet enough that no one will remember them later."

James frowned a little, but nodded. "Yeah...Well, they're still weird names," he grumbled childishly.

I smiled, and shoved his shoulder. "Hey, have you seen any spray paint anywhere in here?" I asked, leaning down to type more on a computer.

I saw James' reflection nod to me, then walk off.

In the HYDRA computers, I found every name for every operative they name papers for. It wasn't much use to James and me, since we didn't have the resources to search multiple aliases, but I knew a group who'd find it _very_ interesting.

A heavy _thunk_ made me jump a little, and I looked over my shoulder to see a crate of various spray paint colors. I smiled, grabbed one and started shaking it. "You sure you don't want something about your mouth and nose?" I asked James, pulling my bandana up from where it hung around my neck. He just shook his head.

I shrugged, and began walking out of the building. "Grab me the white and blue, will you?" I called over my shoulder.

As James drove us away from the factory 45 minutes later, I looked over my shoulder. I used the spray paint to leave a little message for the Avengers. There was nothing more James or I could to there, but there was a lot more that could be done.

That's why I spray painted a big red white and blue shield on the side of the building.

They'd get the message soon enough, and then the Avengers would have the list of HYDRA names.


	28. Chapter 28: How Can I Make You Happy?

**Ok, so this chapter is a little fillery, and it sets up Ellie's interactions with the Avengers since I have this idea in my head...**

 **It has some feel-inducing moments, so prepare for that.**

 **I'm also preping to get into Age of Ultron, and will take ANY ADVICE YOU CUPCAKES THROW AT ME!**

 **Well, any-hoo, enjoy the chapter!**

 **~Christianne**

* * *

 ***UNEDITED***

* * *

Anna POV

 **January 28, 1945**

 _It was a_ _ **beautiful**_ _morning._

 _The radio was playing something by Artie Shaw, turned down low so it was just a lull around me._

 _We'd put the heat on high all night, so I was lounging on the bed in just the pretty lilac nighty and matching robe._

 _Bucky was showering. He'd left the door open slightly, like had had been for a few months now, and gave me a wink before pulling his shirt over his head. I just laughed and said something smart._

 _The curtains were drawn over the windows, keeping the room dim, but it was bright enough to see the object I had in my hands._

 _When Bucky dug through his trunk to find the_ _ **one**_ _pair of clean trousers he had at the very bottom of his trunk (they were_ _ **quite**_ _a bit too small but only the girls noticed and none of them wanted to say anything), he tossed everything into a heaping pile on the floor. When he was walking to the bathroom with his trousers and underwear, I'd grabbed a discarded pair of his Jockey's and lightly whipped the back of his legs with them for leaving a mess at the foot of our bed._

 _As I put his things back into his messy trunk, I came across something I hadn't seen in a few months; a small, pewter metal box with roses on the top._

 _Bucky had been in the shower for 15 minutes and I'd spent that time gazing at the little metal box as I held it up in the air over my head._

 _"You know, if you open that, you say yes by default."_

 _"Haven't opened it yet," I said with a smile. "I'm just...thinking."_

 _I felt Bucky sit on the bed. Soon after, his damp hair was resting on my bare thigh. I jumped from the sudden cold, but then his warm hands started trailing over my skin, warming me up._

 _"Bout what?" He asked as his left hand started to_ _ **'innocently'**_ _play with the lace trimmed hem of my nightie. I reached down and smacked his knuckles. He laughed, then reached up more boldly._

 _"Sarge, you know I love it when you get all cuddly while I talk, but you gotta gimmie a rest!" I laughed as his fingers tickled my thigh._

 _Letting out an exasperated sigh, Bucky moved so his head was resting on my midsection, face towards my face (and my chest, but I didn't say anything about that). "You're going to ruin the silk, Bucky." I said, continuing to play with the little box in the air._

 _"You could always wear one of my shirts," Bucky offered, reaching up to play with one of my curls. I just smiled at him. "Never answered my question." He added a moment later._

 _"What question?" I asked._

 _"What are you thinkin' about?" Bucky asked again, eyeing the box I had in my hands._

 _I smiled, and sighed. I hummed a little as I exhaled, then answered._

 _"Roses."_

 _It was quiet for a beat._

 _"_ _ **Roses.**_ _" Bucky repeated flatly._

 _"Yeah," I said, nodding a little. "I can't decide...I keep going between red and lavender."_

 _"Huh?"_

 _"Red would look so nice in pictures, but lavender mean's enchantment, wonder and impossibility," I smiled at the end. "I think that fits with us."_

 _"What?"_

 _"But red means love, you know?" I asked, brushing my thumb over the pair of roses on the top of the box. "They represent love, in its purest and most passionate form...They're_ _ **classic**_ _."_

 _"Glow, darlin'_ _ **what**_ _are you talking about?" Bucky asked, sitting up on his elbows to face me._

 _"Roses," I said, surprised he hadn't caught on yet._

 _"Well, yeah, I get that," he said, nodding once. "But what do you need flowers for?"_

 _"For our wedding, silly!" I said, laughing once and gently swatting his shoulder._

 _Bucky narrowed his eyes at me in a way that wasn't completely playful. "What are you talking about?"_

 _I looked back at the ring box. "Just 'cause I haven't said yes yet, it doesn't mean we won't get married some day."_

 _Bucky's eyes widened, and his brows rose. "Really?" I nodded._

 _"Huh...So...You think about our wedding a lot?" He asked as his head went back down to rest on my midsection._

 _"Yeah...Now and then," I admitted, smiling softly._

 _"Where is it?" Bucky asked, turning his face was more towards my body. I could feel his lips moving against the silk of my nightie._

 _"There's this little white chapel up by my grandad's estate." I said, smiling a little. "It was real run down, but in '20 my grandad bought the property and had it all fixed up. New stained glass, had all the wood polished...It's like it's from a story book."_

 _"Sounds nice," Bucky hummed into my ribs. "What about your dress? Girls think about their wedding dress all the time, don't they?"_

 _"Mostly the engaged ones..." I countered. "But...Something lacey that I can dance in, with a birdcage veil."_

 _"Mm-hmm..." Bucky mumbled._

 _"You'd wear your uniform, 'cause you just look so handsome in it. Steve too, and anybody else you want as groomsmen. But not 'cause they look so handsome in them. All the guys just have to be wearing the same thing." I continued, bringing one arm down to go around Bucky's shoulders. "If my dress if long, then the bridesmaids dresses are gonna short, but if my dress is long, then they should be short."_

 _"...Sure..."_

 _"But I can't pick a color until I pick red or lavender roses." I sighed, frowning a little. "Red or lavender...Red or lavender. Lavender or red...What do you think Bucky?"_

 _"Why don't we have a few of those little pink flowers?" Bucky mumbled sleepily._

 _"There are a lot of pink flowers Bucky," I said, laughing._

 _He groaned in response and moved so he hovered above me, resting his body lightly along the length of mine. "The little pink ones I gave you back in New Jersey, at camp."_

 _"Anemone." I recalled, smiling at the memory. I was having a bad day, and sometime in the morning I snapped at Bucky that I didn't have enough time for him that day. That evening, while he was supposed to be at dinner, he hunted me down on base just to give me three little pink flowers. He'd said they reminded him of me; something to dainty and pretty amongst all the mess of dusty weeds and shit along the fence of the camp._

 _I reached up with one hand and gently took his face in my hand, then pressed my lips to his in a gentle kiss. He wasn't expecting it, so I was able to pull away before he got me real hooked on it._

 _"No." I said in the same wistful, soft voice as before._

 _"What?" Bucky asked, in an honestly shocked voice. "Why not?"_

 _"Because I could never find enough anemone for a wedding!" I shot back playfully._

 _"Oh I bet you could," Bucky said, gently nudging my nose with the knuckle of a bent finger. "You're a smart girl."_

 _"What's my intellect got to do with flowers?" I asked him, my eyes narrowed._

 _Bucky just blinked at me, not knowing how to respond._

 _"Just a few of the little pink ones?" He asked, falling to his side._

 _"They won't go with the roses!" I said smartly, getting off the bed and tossing the ring box to him. As he caught it expertly, his eyes followed my arms as they shimmied out of the silk robe I wore. I let it fall to the ground as I walked around the bed._

 _"I'll sneak 'um in!" Bucky said with a grin on his face._

 _Giggling, I leaned down and wrapped my arms around his shoulder, resting my chin on my hands. "Betcha I can convince you different." I taunted playfully._

 _He looked at me with narrowed eyes, and tossed the ring box into his trunk, then reached his leg out to kick the lid shut. "What'd you have in mind, Glow?"_

 _I smiled so sweetly, I couldn't believe my face didn't crack. "Just how much hot water do you think you left for us?"_

* * *

 **2014; The Smithsonian's Captain America Exhibit**

 _My hair was stuffed in a hat, I had thrown in some green contacts, fake glasses and wore a baggy jacket, so I was unrecognisable unless you were looking for me._

 _It was the second day; believe it or not, I couldn't get tickets for my own exhibit._

 _I stuck to the walls as I went through, and stopped now and then to look at a sweet picture of Kára and Howard or someone. The glass cases that contained various things were of little interest to me; I was really only here for one thing._

 _I wrote the short biography about Bucky that went on the large glass plate in the middle of the exhibit. But I hadn't seen what they put behind it yet._

 _The commemorative glass served as sort of a barrier to a smaller corridor of the exhibit. It was darker, and had Glenn Miller playing in the background. Warm gold lights illuminated spots here and there._

 _Two mannequins started off the section they'd dubbed_ _ **The Wartime Romance of Sergeant Barnes and his Glow**_ _. A male wearing an off-white t-shirt and the kelly green uniform pants, with the matching oversized shirt tied around his waist, a shiny pair of new dog tags hung over his canvas neck. The second one was female, and wearing a simple ensemble of a beige blouse and a camel skirt. The stockings had a few runs in them, and some plain brown shoes adorned her feet._

 _What Bucky and I were wearing when we first met._

 _It was just the first of many of our possessions that detailed our relationship through the years._

 _There was my copy of_ _ **Alice Through the Looking Glass**_ _, with the bookmark still in_ _ **The Jabberwocky**_ _._

 _There was a M1941 Johnson, the same as Bucky's first infantry rifle. My first lab notebooks from Dr. Erskine's lab._

 _The letters we wrote to one another, before he was captured by HYDRA, were in the containers we kept them in; Bucky's worn leather folder held together by twine, and the dainty plaster box painted with scenes depicting mischievous fairies in a forest. There was a large screen between the two where visitors could swipe through the letters and read them on a 64" screen._

 _The original, battered picture I mailed to Bucky was in it's own small case where it revolved so my scrawl was readable. Behind it, the same picture was blown up to a massi size._

 _The stack of letters Bucky never got was next, still tied with twine; I refused to let him read them._

 _The dress I wore when we danced for the first time was in a picture next to a mannequin with Bucky's battered dress uniform on it. When you moved in front of these, music started to play._

 _The dress I wore for the Christmas party was after that; the mannequin hand held a box wrapped in brown paper, tied with a bow._

 _Everything that made us..._ _ **us**_ _was in this little room._

 _There was a small pewter box on a pedestal at the center, and it was where a lot of the woman who walked through stopped to cry._

 _Behind the ring box, was a plaque reading_ _ **Barnes said, 'you don't get to see the ring 'till you say yes!' Brightman bargained a later proposal from Barnes, as she had only been free from HYDRA for a matter of weeks. They were planning their wedding, but Barnes had yet to deliver a second proposal. He died before he had a chance too. Brightman took his words seriously, and when she died in 1952, she died without seeing the engagement ring Barnes was going to give her.**_

 _At the end of our little corridor, there was a motage of video footage of Bucky and I projected onto the wall. There was a bench or two where people could sit and watch the grainy blakc and white images of Bucky and me at various stages in our relationship. It was all set to Ella Fitzgaralds'_ _ **Angel eyes**_ _._

 _The last clip in the montage was from the New Year's Eve before Bucky died-It was taken only a matter of weeks before he died. We went to the pub across the street, and Howard was there with a camera. The Commandos, Steve included, could be seen in the background. They were all smiling and laughing as Bucky and I twirled around the dance floor. Bucky raised his hand high and twirled me around, beinging me close at the end. He dipped me low, and the last still image of the montage was of after he broght me back up. He didn't stop raising me up until my feet were up off the floor, Bucky had leaned back to kiss me. It wasn't the most romantic kiss, what with everyone in our vacinity watching us and cheering. We were both smiling against oneanothers lips, that was clear even in the poor quality of the video._

* * *

"Why are you sad?"

James words broke me from the near meditative state I'd forced myself into. I looked away from the cup of cheap coffee on the table in front of me to his face across the table. We were waiting at a diner in Warsaw for some tickets out of the area from a living source I found.

I just shook my head at him in response. "I...I can't do the questions today, James."

"Why?" He pressed, a crease forming between his brows.

"Because I _can't_." I said sharply, making his brows raise slightly in surprise; I _never_ snapped at him like that. I put my face in my hands, pinching my eyes closed tight. "Not... _Not with you_."

"Did I do something?"

The way he asked that made him sound like a small child speaking to an adult; concerned and a little scared.

Without lifting my head, I shook it 'no.' I ony looked up when I heard someone walking towards our table.

" _Here you go ma'am,_ " the young waitress said in cheerful Polish, holding an envelope out to me. I took it from herr wordlessly, making her frown a little. She turned towards James and got a big smile on her face. " _Anything I can get for you yet sir?_ " She asked him, batting her eyelashes.

" _No_." James said in a neutral voice, also in perfect Polish. There wasn't a language yet that he couldn't speak like a native. The waitress frowned, jutting a pouty lip out, but quickly masked her disappointment with a smile.

" _Well, Happy Valentine's Day!_ " She chirped, then went off to a different table.

If it had been any other day, I would have laughed at how oblivious James was to the attention he got from the girl. He didn't even look at her; his gaze was trained on me. Just like when we would go out to the pub across from the bunker, and the barmaids or just random women would just swoon over him, but he would politely brush them off without giving them a second glance.

I kept one hand on my face, hiding it from James, and the other held his dog tags tightly. He knew they used to belong to him, or who he used to be, and just furrowed his brows when he saw them. He never responded to my questions about why he did that, but I knew. I'd told him once that him remembering would make me happy. In James' mind, that meant I was unhappy now. He wanted to make me happy, so he was trying to remember, even though I don't think it was what he wanted.

There was a slight rustle of fabric from his side of the table. Then some seconds later, shaking, searing hot flesh fingertips brushed the back of the hand that was against my face. I looked up at him, keeping my face neutral. He took my hand and held it firmly in his as he made and held eye contact with me.

"I...I know I died today." He whispered, his voice was emotionless, but not cold. James was stating facts, not trying to comfort me. "It...It's gotta-...You're sad, Anna."

I squeezed his hand. "Yeah, I'm sad."

He dropped his gaze and looked at the cracked varnish on the table. "I don't want you to be sad." James mumbled in a very childlike way.

"I know," I said softly, forcing a smile on my face. "I know you don't."

"How can I make you happy?" He asked, looking up again, his brows furrowed. "I'm...I'm trying to remember, but-but there's _nothing_ -"

A gloved metal hand came to his head, palm open and pressing to his temple. I squeezed the hand I held tighter, and waited for him to look at me.

"James you can't make me happy today," I said honestly. He looked at me in confusion. "You can do a lot of things, but you can't make me happy today...I-I don't think anybody ever could."

* * *

 **Arlington National Cemetery, Virginia**

Omniscient POV

Steve stood between two graves, hands in his pockets, entirely unsure what to think about.

The first February fourteenth he spent in the 21st century, Bucky was still dead. Anna and Steve shared a quiet afternoon between Bucky's, and Steve's, graves. They sat in the grass with a bottle of whisky and told their favorite Bucky stories. Steve fell asleep hearing Annie's loud, scream-like sobs into her pillow.

But now, three years later, Steve wasn't sure what to do.

Anna wasn't here; he hadn't heard from her in a few months.

Bucky wasn't dead; there were no leads on his location.

Anna had looked into getting Steve's stone removed, seeing as he wasn't actually dead, but S.H.I.E.L.D. refused. They said as far as the public was concerned, Steve Rogers was still dead, even though he fought aliens in 2012.

Steve turned when he heard footsteps behind him.

"Ellie," Steve said. It was part recognition, part surprise, and part greeting. "What are you doing here?"

The short dark haired girl gave an awkward little smile. After hesitating for a split second, she walked forward. She held up the small, paper wrapped bouquet she'd been holding.

"Anna got a message to me," she said quietly. "She wanted me to make sure he got his flowers."

Steve nodded, and sidestepped towards his own grave slightly, telling Ellie it was ok to put them on the grave. Ellie stepped forward, and set the flowers down on the rounded, smooth top of the grave. "She...She always gets him pink anemone." She said awkwardly, glancing at Steve. He nodded wordlessly.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Steve looked at Ellie. She was different that when he first met her a few years back. She still looked timid and quiet, pulled on the end of her braid nervously, and had her shoulders pulled forward. At the same time, she looked...more mature. Steve remembered asking Anna how old she was, thinking she was in her late teens. Now, she looked about Anna's (physical) age. Her face had lost some of the childlike roundness that had made her look so young, and had gained some more defined, adult-like features. For the sake of being through, Steve noted that _other_ parts of Ellie were more defined and womanly; her hips and chest to name a few.

Steve remembered in the weeks after New York he asked Anna what his blood exactly _did_ to Ellie. He had looked for her in the helicarrier after the battle, but she was nowhere to be found. Anna explained where she was, and that she was safe. She then used a bunch of big, scientific words Steve didn't understand, which basically meant that his blood stabilized Ellie. Anna wasn't so sure if the effects were permanent, and if they weren't how long they would last, but it was helping her by leaps and bounds.

"I heard about the new Avenger's Tower," Ellie said, playing with the end of her braid and looking between the graves. "It's...Good, what you're all doing."

"Heard about it?" Steve asked, surprised. "You didn't see it goin' up the last few months?"

Ellie shrugged. "I've been sorta...out of the loop," she explained vaguely. "I-I've been working really hard on my abilities."

"Anna said you were doin' better." Steve recalled. They were talking casually, but neither had looked at one another.

"I'm still working on...on control after the fact," Ellie admitted, dancing around what she wanted to talk to Steve about. She _needed_ to talk to him about something, but she wasn't sure _this_ was the place. "But-But being cooped up in Westchester isn't going to help me...Or anybody else."

Steve looked at her then, catching her hesitant tone.

"An-Anna said I could help people." Ellie said with a small nod. Steve turned to face her, thinking about what Ellie was saying. "And...And now there are a lot of people who need help."

Steve looked away from Ellie to the graves in front of him.

There were two voices in his head. One was his own, the captain's voice, saying that while Ellie's urge to help is half the problem solver, she was too big a risk to the rest of the team. The other voice was Bucky's. It was saying that everyone needed at least _one_ chance; it also agreed with the captain's voice in that her urge to help was half the problem already solved.

"Anna said you tense under pressure." Steve said plainly. "She...She told me that you've had a hard time dealing with it in the past."

Ellie stopped playing with her braid, and grasped her arms. Through the material of her sweater she could feel the crisscrossed scars that lined her arms. Steve saw where her hands were, and knew that Anna was right. "You're going to be under a lot of pressure, Ellie. Anna said you've been avoiding that for quite a few years. It'll...It'll be a new experience for you. I want to make sure you're up for it."

"Every day, you should take the chance to do something new." Ellie said, looking up at the blond. "It won't cost much more than the courage it takes to do it."


	29. Chapter 29: Apple Cobbler for Breakfast

**Sorry about the wait cupcakes. School isn't getting easier, and I have to admit, I've been binge watching Person of Interest on Netflix. It's _awesome_. Enough said. I'm thinking of adding another fic to my story list on here...**

 **Anyhoo, this is the start of the Age of Ultron plot line. And before you read it I want you all to know something; the brief scenario with James and Pietro may seem a little odd, but it'll make sense soon enough.**

 **Enjoy! And I'd really appreciate anything you cupcakes have to say. It may help me update faster too ;)**

 **~Christianne**

* * *

 ***UNEDITED***

* * *

Anna POV

"Why are there no HYDRA bases in, oh, Brazil?" I asked nobody in particular. "I'd _literally_ kill for a little civilization and sun right now."

"There's a town just a few miles back," James pointed out, looking at me through a thin fringe of dark hair caught under the knit edge of his hat.

I scoffed. "Oh please, it's a nice little former Soviet controlled city, but it doesn't even have a _Starbucks_." I laughed, white fog coming from my mouth. I rough my hands, clad in fingerless gloves up to my face. I cupped them over my mouth and blew, rubbing them together to try to warm them up a little.

"I'd _literally kill_ for a London Fog right now." I groaned, kicking a snow covered rock. "Oh-A London Fog is a-"

"-black tea latte. I know," James finished for me.

I snorted. "Oh really? What, memorize that menu in Kiev?"

"No," James countered easily. "You talked about it."

"When?" I asked, the last time I remembered getting one, let alone taking about one was back when we were in-

"Maine." James told me casually, not even glancing at me.

"You remember my favorite Starbucks order from more than a year ago?" I asked, stopping. I grabbed his arm, making him stop too.

"Yeah," James confirmed. "I-I remember most of what you've told me."

 _Oh do you know?_ I thought sarcastically, letting him pull out of my grasp.

After we left Poland with clean names, we went to China for a few weeks. After we took care of a little business there (it was really almost too easy), we took off for the Australian. Three grueling weeks spent in the outback later, I _demanded_ he pick somewhere civilized. James only agreed to it since I said he could pick the next place to burn.

I wanted to protest his choice, a small, old compound in eastern Europe—when I say old, I mean _the Howling Commandos raided the place during the war_ old. Like I said, I wanted to protest his choice, but he explained that he _remembered_ the place, and anything he remembered was our next stop.

"What's my favorite color?" I questioned him teasingly.

"You have the lock picks?" James asked, ignoring my question.

I rolled my eyes and took the small metal picks from my back pocket. "Got my six?" I asked, kneeling into the cold stone entrance floor.

"Always do." James said flatly, moving to step directly behind me. I smiled a little, getting to work. Fifteen seconds later, I was pushing the doors open. I heard James grumbling behind me that I didn't wait for him to clear the room first.

"Stop complaining," I laughed, smiling as I pulled my hat off. "You wanna talk about broken deals, you promised me civilization."

We both got rid of our bulky, heat-trapping clothing, leaving us in our thermal tactical gear. James threw the hood of his jacket over his head, and I did the same, only I also wore my bandana. James didn't like having his face covered, and for a good reason. It was also a scare tactic; the people who saw his face and realized it's relevance were too stunned to defend themselves.

I took the submachine gun James handed me, took off the safety, checked the suppressor and looked at him. We didn't need to speak. We'd run enough jobs together to know what the looks meant.

James went out first, both of us at the ready. The bottom floor was easy; all storage, empty cells and torn apart cars. Two were taken out on the second floor; James had the pleasure of ending those wastes of oxygen.

I opened one heavy door and grinned at what I saw.

" _God_ I want to hate these guys, but it's a little hard when they buy my favorite stand-alone grenade launcher in bulk." I said, smiling. I walked to the large wooden crates and lifted one out. "H 'n K, 69A1...The best thing to come out of West Germany."

"What about you Jimmy? You have a favorite grenade launcher?" I asked, dropping the H 'n K back in the crate.

"...FN Mk 13." He answered after a moment of thought. "Th- _They_...They modified a few for me...They shot more than grenades."

I blinked twice. "The FN Mk 13, huh?" I slammed the lid of the crate shut. "They're a bit too clunky for my taste."

Both of us looked up when people began yelling, running and shooting above us. I cocked a hip and glanced up.

"Your call Jimmy," I said, still looking at the ceiling. "Join the party upstairs or leave the way we came?"

There was a loud bang above us.

"Let's join the party, Anna." James said, readying his submachine gun.

I grinned, opening the crate again. "You always were a social guy."

After using one of the H 'n Ks to blow a hole through the door, and taking out the seven stupidly confident men there. They were easy, but the dozen men that came next were a little harder. James had emptied the mag in his gun a while ago, he got a trigger happy when he was anxious, and was using a knife at his hip and his left hand to take out HYDRA three at a time. I got sick of my gun when I was anxious, so I was blowing off steam the old fashioned way; fist to fist.

A loud blast shook the ground, making me lose my balance. The HYDRA soldier I was knocking around ended up on top of me, and I was the new punching bag. I was a good fighter, always have been since Bucky taught me how to throw a punch, but skill as pointless when the guy punching you outweighed you by 180 pounds and had brut strength on his side. All I could do was lie back and take it.

There was an animalistic snarl, then the brute was off of me. I pushed myself up onto my elbows just in time to see James throw three punches.

The first one made the guy cry out in pain, probably from a bunch of broken facial bones. The second rendered him unconscious. The third broke his neck, letting it hang at an unnatural angle.

James threw the body to the side, then came to me. "How bad are you hurt?" He asked, his flesh hand reaching towards the bloody bandana on my face. Shaking, slow fingers grasped it and tugged it down over my face. I smiled at him.

"Aw, look at you acting all gentle and human to me," I said, licking my blood off my lips. "Don't worry, Sarge, m'kay? I'll let you know when you need to worry about me."

"I always worry about you," James said, using two flesh fingers to turn my face to the side. I smiled a little more.

"Yeah, well there are some things Soviet brainwashing can't even change," I said, grunting as James helped me up. The ground shook again.

"Thinkin' mutiny?" I asked, looking at the ceiling again.

"They don't have this kind of artillery," James said, looking around.

My head snapped to the sealed window when I heard a familiar sound. I pushed away from James and pressed my hands to the steel covering the window. "Hey sweetiepie, think you can open this up for me?" I asked, smacking the steel covering the window.

James wordlessly curled his fingers under the edge of the metal window covering and pulled the seven inch bolts right out of the brick. He stepped back to let me look through the broken glass.

A blur of red and gold flew past the window.

" _Shit_." I breathed, slamming a fist to the stone wall. "I need a laptop." I half-ordered James. He wordlessly left.

Less than ten minutes later he came back with a battered laptop. I grabbed it from him and plugged a flash drive into the port. TJ whipped it up for me a few years ago. I was good with computers when I had the time, but I wasn't good enough to get into anything Tony Stark programed. TJ was though; TJ was possibly the only hacker in the world who broke into Stark Industries servers _in 12 hours_. It was S.H.I.E.L.D. tech, from when S.H.I.E.L.D. was still a thing. It connected to all transmissions in seconds, decoding them and displaying them for the picking.

I glanced at James. "Get us a clean way out. As little killing as possible please."

He nodded once. As soon as he was gone I clicked on a transmission feed.

"Steve!" I yelled, putting a finger to the earpiece I dug out of my pocket.

" _Anna?_ " A confused, worried voice spoke up.

"Yeah, Steve, it's me." I confirmed. "We're here."

" _You're here—Anna where have you been? None of us have heard from you in weeks-_ "

"Steve we're here!" I yelled again.

" _You're_ _ **where**_ _?_ " Steve yelled back.

"The castle you guys are storming? We're inside it!" I snapped. I patched Tony in. "Second floor from ground level!"

Iron Man, in all his red and gold glory, came to hoer a few hundred feet from the window I was standing in.

" _Long time no see Brightman,_ " Tony said.

I grinned, dried blood pulling on my skin. "It's good to hear your voice, Tony." I said honestly.

"Anna," James said behind me. I looked over my shoulder to see him at the doorway. "I found our way out."

I cut Steve's feed from my earpiece. "I'll follow you," I told James.

"Lavender."

I turned around and looked at him oddly.

"Your favorite color," he clarified.

I muted my feed to Tony and Steve's coms. "And when did I tell you that?"

James blinked twice. "When we had apple cobbler for breakfast."

I watched him leave, completely confused. I reminded myself to put him in front of a few cognitive tests later.

I looked back at the laptop when Tony started to get all sassy and annoying.

"Tony, only you can hear me now," I said, watching out the window as Iron Man flew around, narrowly missing high caliber rounds.

" _What'd'ya need Blondie?_ " Tony asked.

"The guys you saw behind me," I started out. I paused to lick my lips, readying to do something big. "Don't tell Steve."

Tony let out a cynical laugh. " _You want me to lie to Cap?_ "

"Yes." I confirmed. I yanked the jumpdrive from the port on the laptop and put three shots into the laptop.

I grabbed a grenade launcher on my way out of the room.

* * *

Omniscient POV

James was substantially ahead of Anna on the way out, but it wasn't hard for her to follow; she followed the dead or unconscious bloodies bodies.

James was pushing a unconscious HYDRA soldier down a flight of stairs when something appearing as a blue blur knocked him back into the wall. It flashed past him again, and James felt a low growl grow in his chest. He took a slow, deep breath, and, like he was looking through the scope of his rifle, got ready.

When the blur came again, James' left hand shot out and _grabbed_.

A choking sound replaced the blur as it turned into a young man. He had shaggy hair that was dark at the roots and grew to a pale blond at the ends. His blue eyes were wide in surprise and fear as James' metal fingers dug into his throat.

Curiously, James tilted his head to the side as he examined the young man he had by the throat. He tightened his grip just enough to make the kid's legs stop futily kicking, finally falling to his knees. His hands grasped James' metal wrist all the while making sad, pitiful choking sounds.

"Who are you?" James asked, just as the kid's face started to turn a bluish color.

The choking sounds the young man, Pietro, was letting out changed. They _changed_ , and sounded like... _laughter._

Pietro's eyes shifted so he was now looking over James' shoulder.

He whipped around to see what the kid had been laughing about, but it was too late.

Pietro, out of the corner of his eye, had been watching his sister approach the man from behind. He laughed as he watched Wanda gently move the manipulated the matter around James' head, turning it red and swirling in his hair. Only when Pietro looked at his sister did her hand over his shoulder tense, sending the red into James' mind.

James dropped, immediately releasing Pietro's throat.

The blond was taking gasping breaths, hands cradling his throat. Wanda, on the other hand, was looking down at the large man on the floor. He'd managed to get himself backed into a corner, and curl himself into a ball. His metal and flesh hands grasped desperately at his head.

"His mind..." Wanda said, unaware she was actually speaking. "It's...It's strange."

Pietro got to his feet, and put an arm on Wanda's shoulder. "I don't understand him," she added, taking a step towards James. Her brother moved his hand to her arm, keeping her back. He'd seen what this man could do.

He began pulling Wanda to the door while she continued to look at James.

She saw so much pain and death, decades of it. But the underlying, deeply ingrained, wholehearted _good_ that was inside him was strong. It was _overpowering_.

"Hey Jimmy? I'm catchin' up to 'ya sweetie!" Anna yelled, jogging through a stone hallway.

The twins were gone by the time Anna came to the stairs.

She had an oddly happy grin on her face as she swung around the corner, grenade launcher under her arm. She looked around briefly before she saw him; curled into a corner, gripping his head.

Anna dropped everything and ran to him.

She hugged the deathly silent man to her chest, stroking his hair, rocking back and forth with him. Anna spoke, assuring him that he'd be alright, that she was there. Her words soon became pleas for him to speak, to tell her what she needed.

But he didn't say a word.

* * *

 **September, 1942**

 _"You keep very strange hours, Miss Brightman."_

 _Anna sighed and turned to look at the man leaning on the outside of the lab building, pulling the strap of her bag up her shoulder. "You must keep strange hours too if you have time to keep track of mine." Anna said back._

 _She looked to her left as a group of new cadets; they were going on a run in full gear before breakfast. The sun wasn't even going to be up for at least a half an hour._

 _"I thought we could get breakfast together." Bucky said with a smile, taking some cheerful steps towards her._

 _Anna pressed a hand to her head. She'd just finished an all night think tank and brain pick with Dr. Erskine and the other Project: Rebirth team. They were currently playing host to every official who knew about it; the politicians hired their own scientists to look at some of the work, and they thought they were experts in it now. Anna had considered calling Peggy a hundred times to ask to shoot one particularly annoying congressman. "Bucky...Bucky I'm too tired to deal with the mess hall right now-"_

 _"Oh don't worry about, I already got us a little something," Bucky said, holding up two of the small tin mess cups. He had two spoons as well, and the cups were covered with a napkin, to keep them warm, assumedly, and they smelled_ _ **wonderful**_ _._

 _"What is it?" Anna asked curiously._

 _"Why don't we go find somewhere to sit down?" Bucky said, already walking towards the spot he'd found a few weeks ago._

 _Against Anna's better, tired judgement, she followed him._

 _"What's your favorite color?" Bucky asked, looking over at Anna as they walked._

 _"Pardon?" Anna asked, looking back at him. She'd been thinking about molecular bonds._

 _"Aside from the fact that you're a lab assistant from Manhattan who's working on a secret military project that you're not allowed to talk about, I don't know that much about you," Bucky explained, handing the tin cups to Anna. Confused, she took them. Bucky put the spoons in the pocket of his kelly green shirt._

 _Bucky had led her to the back of the camp, to a fairly good sized row of enlarged covered things. "So, what's your favorite color?" He asked, grabbing one of the massive tarps and yanking it off._

 _Anna's jaw dropped as it revealed a big, fully operational tank. "Are-Are you just allowed to-"_

 _"The view on top is great, all the buildings are out of the way," Bucky said, ignoring Anna's question. Using the ladder on the side, Bucky climbed up onto the tank. "C'mere, gimmie those," he said, holding his hand out for the two cups Anna held. She numbly held them out to him._

 _Bucky sat them on the tank, then held his hand out for Anna. She looked at him oddly, then took his hand. He helped her up, and helped her to sit on the top part of the tank, their legs dangling off the side._

 _"What's your favorite color?" Bucky asked again, handing Anna a spoon._

 _She looked at the spoon, then looked up at the sun rise. "See those clouds?" She asked, pointing to the clouds. "Between the orange and pink ones?"_

 _"Yeah, the purple ones?" Bucky asked, eyeing the sky carefully. "The dark ones or the light ones?"_

 _"The lighter ones," Anna clarified. "That shade of lavender, that's my favorite color."_

 _Bucky laughed a little, smiling. He turned to look at Anna. She was still looking at the sky, a little, involuntary smile on her face. He laughed once, just a breath through his nose._

 _"Care for some breakfast, Miss Brightman?" Bucky asked, taking the cups again. He handed one to her, and artfully pulled the napkin off the top. "I went to grade school with the kid brother of the cook." He added by way of explanation._

 _Anna brought the warm tin cup closer to her face and inhaled the sweet, cinnamony aroma. "What is it?" She asked, smiling._

 _"The dessert for those uppity politicians you're playing host to," Bucky said, taking a spoonful of the crust and filling. "Apple cobbler."_


	30. Chapter 30:The Soldier Meets the Sargent

Omniscient POV

"Hey Cap!" Tony called, waving Steve over. "Need to talk to you about something."

Leaving his shield in the lab, Steve followed Tony to a holodesk off to the side, away from the others. Tony was uploading the feed from his suit to the table as Steve walked up.

"Anna told me not to tell you something," Tony said, swiping through the footage.

"Not tell me about what?" Steve asked, hiding his surprise well.

"Not what," Tony corrected, finding the footage he wanted. "A _him_."

A shadowed, broad shouldered male figure was behind Anna in the doorway. "She told me not to tell you about this guy," Tony explained, throwing the image up into the air, and using his fingers to zoom in on the man. It was blurry at best, and hardly any detail could be seen. "Tall, dark hair, murder in his eyes."

Steve's face was a mix of confusion, surprise and anger. He reached towards the picture in the air, and with a well practiced swiping motion he pulled up a menu of various editing options. Steve had picked up 21st century technology pretty quick, but Ellie taught him a lot of tricks and shortcuts, this one included. Ellie had been at the tower for a few week now, and had been keeping to herself. Steve let her show him all the cool things about Stark's system she figured out (some of which he already knew) just to get her out of her room and talking.

Scrolling through the menu, Steve abruptly stopped when he found the one he wanted; **ALICE_CLEAR_EDIT_TJBB_ALL**. He made a fist over the program, dragged it to the image and flicked his fingers artfully to apply it.

Green-hued bars crisscrossed the image, clearing up the tiny imperfections. It only took a few seconds for the image to be almost completely crisp and clear.

"Whoa...Is this one of mine?" Tony asked, mildly impressed at the quality of the image. He pulled up the code for the filter.

"It's TJ's." Ellie said softly from behind both men. Tony turned to look at Ellie from the tablet he was holding, but Steve didn't move. His jaw was clenched, eyes glued to the image in the air. "He-He synched A.L.I.C.E. with your systems, remember?" Ellie added. Tony only shrugged.

Ellie walked closer to Steve, looking at the same image he was. She was wearing her usual garb; jeans, a hoodie a few sizes too big, a pair of yellow canvas sneakers Natasha made her buy when she took Ellie shopping a week or two ago, and two small gemstone hair clips to keep her hair back. The clip was a gift from Professor Xavier, given to her before she left the mansion in Westchester; they were delicate and gold, with wire roughly making a flower shape around a cluster of purple stones. Xavier said to consider them a graduation present.

With Ellie standing next to Steve, Tony almost laughed. He found it funny how the smallest person in the tower got along with the biggest.

"Steve?" Ellie asked, looking up at the blond. "Say something?" She asked, furrowing her brow. When he stayed silent, Ellie gently reached forward and gently poked his forearm with a fingertip.

"She told me she hadn't seen him in a year." Steve all but ground out.

"Anna?" Tony asked, unsure _exactly_ what they were talking about.

"She told me he hit her back in Maine and they went different ways!" Steve said, his voice rising steadily in volume.

"That-That's Bucky?" Ellie asked, looking more intently at the image. She compared the stone faced, long haired man to the various colorless images Anna had showed her.

"Sam has been looking into _every_ lead for a year and Anna has been with him this whole time!" Steve was really yelling this time, pacing around the area in front of the holotable. Tony lifted his brows in subtle surprise; he'd never seen Cap this angry while not fighting HYDRA.

"Steve?" Ellie asked in her soft voice.

"How could she keep something like this from me?" He yelled, getting the attention of the rest of the team.

"Steve please stop yelling," Ellie asked pleadingly, wringing her hands and yanking on her dark braid. She knew everyone got upset now and then, but the reason she liked Steve was that he was very level headed. Ellie wasn't prepared for anyone to be so upset with her.

"Why the hell would she keep something like _this_ from me?" Steve yelled again.

" _Well if you stopped screaming for ten freakin' seconds maybe I'd tell you!"_

Everybody turned towards Anna's voice. Tony was leaning against the holotable that projected her image, tablet tucked under his arm. Kára had told him what Ellie is capable of after New York, and he didn't want her to ruin the tower he just finished rebuilding.

Steve's face was almost pure rage as he looked at Anna.

"Annabelle Jane what the _hell_ were you thinking-?"

Anna scrubbed a hand over her blood-covered face. _"Lordy,_ _ **Steven Grant**_ _, this is exactly why I didn't tell you!"_ She snapped, using his full first name and middle name like he did to her. She paused, then continued. _"If I told you I was with him, you would have stopped at nothing to find us."_

"Well, _yeah_ , I would have stopped at nothing," Steve snapped back in a harsh sarcastic tone. "He needs _help_ , Anna."

" _Yeah,"_ Anna agreed. _"It just can't come from you."_

"And why the hell not?"

" _Because he can't handle it, Steve!"_ Anna snapped. _"His mental state is so fucked up that he couldn't even get better if he tried. You know what HYDRA did to him, he can't function unless he has a purpose, and right now, that purpose is cutting HYDRA off at the knees and worring about me."_

Steve scrubbed a hand over his face, looking from Anna's blood stained, bruised and swollen face. He looked around and saw the rest of the team, even Ellie and Helen's people, had left them to yell at each other.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Steve leaned on a table. "How is he?"

" _He's...He's as good as can be expected. Maybe a little better."_ Anna said, rubbing her temple and grabbing an ice pack from out of frame. She pressed it to her cheekbone. _"I mean, physically he's fine."_

Steve nodded wordlessly. "Why were you two in Sokovia?"

" _He remembered being there."_ Anna shrugged. _"And we've been taking down whoever we could get to."_

Steve laughed once. "Yeah, I'd say so."

Anna smiled and shrugged playfully. _"Hey, a girl and her brainwashed boyfriend gotta keep busy somehow."_

Steve laughed softly, looking down at the ground. He rubbed his temples. "Annie how could you keep this from me?"

Anna looked down, and turned slightly, hiding her face with the ice pack on her cheek. _"It...It was hard at first."_ She admitted, shifting in her seat. She looked back at Steve through the camera on her laptop and dropped the ice pack.

" _I'd do anything for him, you know?"_

After being lied to and manipulated by Anna for a year, Steve was skeptical of what Anna said. But her sad-eyes were chipping away his rage. He recalled something Howard said; with Annie's sad-eyes and Peggy's right hook, the Allies could just send them to Berlin and the war would be over in a few hours.

"Where are you?" Steve asked seriously.

Anna hesitated. _"Greece."_ She finally said, nodding a little. _"We're safe, Steve."_

He nodded, crossing his arms. "I'm still mad at you, Annabelle Jane." Stee stated firmly.

Anna rolled her eyes at Steve using such a formal, stern tone and such a formal version of her name. _"I know."_

"Really, Anna," Steve said, his voice deathly serious. "I don't think I've ever been this angry with you—or with _anybody_."

" _I know."_ Anna said again, without the eyeroll this time.

"This conversation isn't over, alright?" Steve said in a much more scolding tone, making Anna feel like a child.

She smiled a little bit though; she'd missed his responsible nature. _"Got it, Steve."_ Anan said with a nod. _"How's Ellie doin'?"_

Steve sighed, thinking of the little brunette. Ellie had been confident enough to tell Steve that she wanted to use her mutation to help people like the Avengers were doing, but she had no confidence beyond that. Most of her time was spent in her bedroom, writing furiously in notebooks. She had time twice a week with members of the team to try to get her abilities battle ready, and a standing walk to the closest library every other day with TJ.

" _That bad, huh?"_ Anna said, interpreting his sigh.

"She's better than when she got here," Steve reasoned, trying not to belittle Ellie's progress.

" _What about TJ?"_ Anna asked.

"Tony has to keep changing security protocols in his system to attempt to keep him out." Steve said with a small smile. Tony and Steve had their differences, and they were friends now, but Steve couldn't deny the amusement he felt when Tony ranted and raved about how a 20-something kid was too smart for his own good.

" _I don't suppose telling him it's useless to try'nd keep him out would do anything, huh?"_ Anna laughed. _"What about his R &D work?"_

"He can't seem to stay focused," Steve answered simply. He felt for TJ; not just because he was a Barnes, because he remembered trying two and three times as harder than the average guy and getting a fraction of the respect.

" _Give him a M24 SWS."_ Anna said with a nod. _"I know it's weird, but it'll really help him get his head out of the cloud."_

Steve nodded.

" _And ask Ellie about her poetry if you want to get he to talk. She'll talk for quite a while about it, so be prepared for that, but it'll get her talking and active."_ Anna added on, gnawing on her bottom lip.

"Thanks," Steve said, filing the information away in his mind.

Anna looked over her shoulder. _"I have to go."_

Steve nodded wordlessly, remembering he was supposed to be mad at Anna. "I'll talk to you soon." He said; it was more like a warning than a warning than a goodbye saying.

" _Oh, I don't doubt that, Captain."_ Anna said, flashing a smirk from under the dried blood on her face.

* * *

After the video call with Anna ended, Steve changed into civvies, and found Ellie at the bar. Her yellow shoes were discarded on to the floor, showing her mismatched socks poking out from under her criss-crossed legs as she sat on a stool at the island. A quickly moving pen in one hand, scribbling elegant text over acid free pages, and Ellie held a mug of hot chocolate overflowing with mini marshmallows in the other hand.

"Hey Ells," Steve said, gently patting Ellie's shoulder as he walked behind her, eventually sitting next to her.

Ellie smiled a little at the fuzzy feeling that wrapped around her when the tall, blond captain called her by the nickname only he used.

Taking the small smile as his greeting, Steve spoke again. "Working on a new poem?"

Ellie nodded, taking a sip of her hot chocolate, and catching a marshmallow in her lips.

"Tell me about it."

Her dark braid swung around as Ellie whipped her head to the left to look at Steve. He seemed genuine in his request; sitting casually in his stool with one elbow on the counter and the other on his knee, turned towards Ellie completely with a neutral, open expression marred only by the flicker of curiosity in his blue eyes. She swallowed the marshmallow she'd bitten out of her mug, and ended up swallowing twice because her tight throat wouldn't let her swallow it the first time.

"W-Well..." Ellie trailed off, looking down at the pen she held, trying to keep its composition the same. Last week, Natasha had surprised her and she accidentally turned her green fountain pen into limestone. "You draw, don't you?" Ellie asked. Steve nodded.

"Well...Art is like silent poetry," Ellie said softly, flipping through the heavy pages of her notebook. "And poetry is art that speaks."

* * *

After Anna ended her video call with Steve, she closed her laptop and pushed it away from her on the couch. She looked back over her shoulder to the figure on the large, plush hotel bed.

James hadn't even stirred from whatever happened to him back in Sokovia, and Anna was far past concerned by now.

She walked over to the bed and sat on the edge in front of James' chest. She ran a hand through his lengthy hair, frowning when he stayed still. Anna did that often—play with his hair—and he usually moved closer to her, nuzzling into her hand.

"What's goin' on in that head of your's, James?" Anna asked outloud, brushing a thumb over his cheekbone. "What's wrong darlin'? Hm? What's goin' on and how do I help you?"

Anna pressed a kiss to his temple, then went to the large bathroom in the Greesian hotel room to clean up the blood that had begun to get crusty and flakey on her face. She left the bathroom door open so she could keep an eye on James, and quickly scrubbed the blood and dirt from her skin with a washcloth.

When she was done, Anna returned to the large bed, not bothering to close the curtains on the windows. They were open and letting in the last few rays of sunshine before the sun set over the Mediterranean Sea. After pulling James so he laid on his back instead of his side, Anna burrowed herself under the covers and clung to his chest as she maneuvered his right arm over her shoulders.

Anna kissed his cheek, feeling the several days worth of scruff on his skin.

"Please wake up soon, darlin,'" she sighed. "I think I'll go crazy if you don't. I'm used to your stupid deep voice now."

* * *

 **James whipped around to see what the kid had been laughing about, but it was too late.**

 _Snow. That as the first thing that registered to James. He was standing in the cold, wet snow._

 _The second thing he processed was the hazy nature of the scene before him. The edges of his vision were blurry, and things seemed to move slower than they should. The snowflakes fell slowly to the already white ground, slow enough for James to reach out and catch a specific snowflake on his fingertip._

 _Several yards in front of him was a large stone building. Even in the dark, James could see distinct differences in parts of the building's materials and architecture. It was as if the building had been damaged, then repaired. James walked closer to the building. A sign hung over the door. It wasn't in English, but James could read it anyway. It was a prayer for fatherless children. Orphans._

 _He'd climbed several steps up to the door, and froze when a weak hand grasped the material of his pants by his ankle. Looking down, James saw the pure white snow stained a dark scarlet color. Blood._

 _The snow was heavy with blood from a young man, no older than 19. His chest was in ribbons, pulverized by what James deduced to be more than 7 hollowpoint bullets. His blood soaked his wool jacket and shirt. The hand that wasn't grasping his pant leg was pressed to his chest, like the feeble pressure would save him._

 _A cane lay in the snow not yet touched by more than a splatter of blood near the young man. James thought it was odd that a young person had a cane, but upon further inspection of the man he saw one of his legs as more bowed than the other. The mild deformity lead to the conclusion that the young man was injured, and required a cane._

 _The young man appeared to be attempting to speak. His eyes, a startlingly alert forest green, were wide. His face was taut with pain and growing paler by the second. His chest heaved with every shallow breath, and every breath also brought more blood to his mouth. It garbled over his lips and trickled down his chin._

 _James suddenly felt the need to help the kid; to help him and_ _ **end**_ _the people who killed him. He reached down to the kid with his left hand._

 _There was something heavy in his hand. A pistol. Through the glove on his right hand, James could feel the sharp burn of the hot barrel when he pressed his finger to it. The gun had been fired recently. He pulled the clip from the gun and saw it was loaded with larger caliber hollowpoints._

 _He had been the one who shot this young man._

 _An acidic feeling began to crawl up James' throat. He felt sick over killing this kid, but he didn't understand why._

 _A whole four seconds had passed since the young man grabbed his pant leg. He began to stammer out garbled, bloody sounds._

" _J-Ja-Ja-" The young man said, struggling to continue to breathe and at the same time waste his precious oxygen on speaking._

" _Jak-Ja-Ja-" He stammered._

 _James felt his left hand move. He tried to force it back down to his side. He even tried to force it back down to his side, even grabbing his metal forearm with his right hand. A grinding, screeching, clicking sound was the result, but his left hand continued to move until his gun was aimed at the boy's head._

" _N-N...No," the boy stammered, blood pouring from his lips, over the corners of his lips and covered his chin. "Ja-Jak-"_

 _James' metal thumb cocked the pistol._

" _N-N-N-!" The boy tried to beg, eyes wide and pleading._

 _James lips moved, and his throat prepared to speak. He was a prisoner in his own body. He tried to scream, turn and run, drop the pistol; the only thing his body did was speak._

 _In his rough, low voice, James snarled words that terrified himself._

" _ **Begging won't make me let you live."**_

 _Tears began mixing with the blood on the young man's face. "Jak-Jak-ov," he slurred, blood bubbling over his lips._

" _Jak-ov," he begged again. "Jak-ov...Jak-ov Jak-ov Jak-ov Jak-"_

 _James pulled the trigger._

 _The young man's skull practically exploded as the bullet tore into his brain._

 _The moment James saw brain matter and skull fragments blow into the snow from the boy's head, the scene before James changed._

 _He was drowning in blood. It was hot and sticky, clinging and searing to his skin through his clothing. As he drowned, the horrifying images of people stabbed, strangled, tortured, shot and torn apart flashed before his eyes. His ears filled with the pleading, begging words of the people he killed._

 _The voices turned to screams that were so loud it hurt his head. The blood seemed to suck James down deeper. He choked as the thick, hot liquid filled his nose and mouth, filling his throat and lungs with the burning, coppery tang of blood._

 _Pinching his eyes shut, he prepared to die._

 _He thought of Anna._

 _Just as quickly as he started drowning in blood, his feet were on solid ground._

 _James chest heaved as he relished the feeling on air in his lungs and against his skin instead of blood. He inhaled, and felt his mouth fall open._

 _The air as so clean,_ _ **sweet**_ _even. James inhaled deeper than he ever remembered; the sweet air tickled parts deep in his lungs that hadn't tasted air in decades._

 _As he greedily sucked in the sweet air, James opened his eyes to see where he was, only after swallowing the panic of another gory scene._

 _Instead, James saw green grass. Thick, plush green grass._

 _He was standing on a front porch of a white farmhouse. The well kept green lawn spanned until the tree line a ways off, and a brown graven drive cut through the pristine grass. To the left, there was a large red barn, and a white fence holding several horses lazily grazing on the grass._

 _James turned around on the porch and ended up looking through a window._

 _He saw a kitchen in pale blue and white tones, with dashes of yellow, and a round table in front of it. A woman sat at the table; she had golden blond hair that sprung up in corkscrew curls._

 _Anna. The woman at the table was Anna._

 _Her eyes were glassy and rimmed with red. She'd been crying._

 _For a brief moment, James let himself be angry at the person that made her cry._

 _In the window, James' eyes unfocused from Anna and focused on his reflection. Or, what was_ _ **supposed to be**_ _his reflection._

 _The man reflected in the glass had short brown hair; it didn't cover the tops of his ears, brush his cheeks or lay over his forehead. His face was cleanly shaven, and was free of any number of scars that littered James' face._

 _The biggest difference between James and the man in the window were his arms. They were both real; flesh and blood._

 _James looked down._

 _His torso was clad in a white button down, and his legs in olive green trousers. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows, exposing the soft, pink-hued flesh of his arms._

 _Coming to a startling realization, James looked back at Anna through the window._

 _He was..._ **him** _._

 _His heart began to pound harder in his chest, rattling the bones of his ribcage, as James desperately looked for anything familiar._

 _Anna wiped a tear from her soft pink cheek, and pulled a book from the truck on the floor next to her. She must have been moving into his farmhouse; trunks and boxes were scattered around the kitchen, large frames wrapped in paper and and propped against the walls, and several dresses were thrown over the kitchen counter._

 _Anna stood, slowly walking around the kitchen, barefoot, and wearing what James could only assume was a pale purple silk robe and not much else. She hugged the book to her chest, picking at the binding as she walked around the kitchen._

 _James found himself wondering where he was. Not where this farmhouse was, but where_ _ **he**_ _was; why he wasn't there in the kitchen with Anna, helping her unpack, picking her up and twirling her around._

 _Slowly, Anna opened the book. An envelope fell out. '_

 _James leaned towards the glass, and saw three words written on the cream envelope in stark black ink._

 _The corners of his mind_ **he** _still held, began screaming and weeping and begging God to let the torture end._

 _James hesitantly reached into dark recesses of his mind to ask_ **him** _why Anna finding a letter in a book prompted such a chaotic response._

 _Anna picked the letter up off the ground and examined it briefly before putting the book down on the table and carefully opening the letter with a paring knife._

 **She's alone in our farmhouse. She's upset. I'm not there...and-and the letter...**

 _Anna let out a sob that sounded half like a scream and fell to her knees. She pressed a hand to her nose and mouth. Fresh tears streamed down her face._

 **I-...** _ **We**_ **, died. We're dead. We-We left her all alone.** _The whispered voice in the corner of his mind shook with emotion; heartbreak._

 _James recalled all he knew about Anna. She was a good fighter, smart, kind; she'd have no problem alone._

 **That's not the point. I know she'd be fine on her own...But...**

 _James dug deeper into his own mind while simultaneously watching Anna fall apart over the open letter._

 **But we don't want her to be alone.** **He** _explained._

 **We love her, dummy. We don't want to spend more than one necessary second away from her. We don't want her to cry, be sad, want for anything...We can't do that if we're dead. We can't make sure she's happy if we're dead, can't dance with her, watch her cheeks blush, hold her hand, see her eyes light up when she talk 'bout sumthin' we don't understand...Pal, we can't see our darlin' Glow** _ **glow**_ **if we're** _ **dead**_ **.**

 _James watched Anna cry, and thought about how much_ **he** _lover Anna;_ _ **Glow**_ _._

 **He** _laughed softly._ **Think what you want about me, buddy, but you're just as crazy 'bout her as I am...** _ **and**_ **just a little batshit crazy, but let's not open that can of worms today.**

 _James put the flesh fingers of his left hand on the glass, and brushed them over Anna's face._

 **Don't be stupid.** **He** _laughed again as James tried to logic out the feelings he had for Anna._

 **You love her, Red, no denying it. I manned up to it pretty damn quick...Didn't wanna keep her waitin'**

 _James blinked, still trying to excused his feelings._

 _ **Jesus**_ **you're stubborn...Just** _ **tell her**_ **, stupid. Tell our Glow you love her.**

...

James regained consciousness slowly. Calmly.

He awoke from his forced dream, and as his eyes focused he felt someone small clinging to his side. James looked down, and felt his face twitch in an alien way; the corners of his mouth pushed up, making his cheeks rise and lips part slightly.

He was smiling.

Anna, about 15 minutes later, stirred and shifted under his arm. She looked up at James and grinned.

"So...You alright now?" Anna asked.

James nodded.

"...Anna-?" He started to say. He caught her attention when his rough, underused voice attempted to be smooth and soft. It broke on her name.

Anna frowned and propped herself up on one elbow. Her hair was starting to curl, and she flipped it over one shoulder to get it out of her way. James didn't know if it was sunrise or sunset outside the open windows, but the dim orangy light that surrounded Anna made her look positively ethereal.

"What's wrong sweetheart?" Anna asked, pressing a hand to his shoulder. When he didn't answer, she spoke again. "James? What's wrong?"

"Anna..." James trailed off. Her brows furrowed.

"G- _Glow_..." He trailed off. Anna's mouth fell open with a soft gasp.

James took a slow breath through his nose.

"I...I love you, Glow."

* * *

 **I'm sorry it took me so long to update, but among other things, I really struggled with this chapter.**

 **I have a lot of potential plot babies for this story, and now and then I might ask a question or two of you cupcakes. Like this one; Steve and Ellie; think they'd make a cute couple? Nothing is definitive, but I just thought I'd get an opinion.**

 **I love you, cupcakes! :)**

 **~Christianne**

 **PS~ More reviews = A more motivated writer = faster updates ;)**


	31. Chapter 31: Why? Why do You Love Me?

**Well, this isn't the first time I've had some flashbacks to the good ol' days of Bucky Barnes and Annie Brightman, but this is the first chapter where the flashbacks are directly from Beyond Repair; chapters 26 and 27 if you're curious.**

 **Anyhoo, enjoy the chapter!**

 **~Christianne**

* * *

 **December 25, 1942**

 _Above us, hung by a shiny red ribbon, were a few sprigs of mistletoe._

 _Bucky looked down at me with a soft, slightly smug smile. "It's a tradition, right?" he said with a small shrug._

 _"Yeah." I said quietly with a small nod._

 _"And…We wouldn't want to break tradition." Bucky reasoned in a low voice._

 _"No. No, I don't think we would." I agreed. I wasn't even sure the sentence made sense, but I didn't care._

 _Bucky's smirk went away, and the teasing look in his eye left too. The hand holding my hand out to the side moved some hair behind my ear, then gently hold the back of my neck._

 _My eyes fluttered half shut when Bucky lowered his face closer to mine. I could feel the soft, warm breaths come out of his slack, parted full lips. My own breathing hitched when I felt the sides of our noses brush together. My head tipped down instinctively, only to have Bucky's free hand come up and a single finger catch under my chin and tip my head back up._

 _My eyes closed fully when I felt his breath directly on my own lips. I think we were an inch (or less) away from kissing, when an alarm sounded._

 _My eyes snapped open, and I saw the entire SSR, all dressed to the nines, running around frantically._

 _"Hey!" Bucky said forcefully, grabbing a passing clerk by the upper arm. "What's going on?" he demanded._

 _"The-The one in-in Norway!" The clerk, who had been running, panted. "They-They just destroyed a second city!"_

 _I gasped. The HYDRA facility in Norway had been lower on the list; the farther away from the fighting, the longer HYDRA weapons took to get to the front lines._

 _But wiping a second village off the map—that made it a priority._

 _"Shit." Bucky swore, running a hand through his hair._

 _"Go." I said, taking a half step back. "_ _ **Go.** " I said again, more forcefully this time._

 _Bucky nodded a little, and leaned forward to press a hard kiss to my cheek. Before he leaned back up, he whispered in my ear._

 _Pecking me once more on my forehead, he ran off to prep for Norway._

 _I was frozen in shock from what he'd whispered._

 _"_ _ **I love you, Glow.** "_

* * *

 **January 1, 1943**

 _"Bucky, do you love me?" I blurted out, making myself look at my feet and not at the man next to me._

 _I think he turned towards me, because the bed shifted and creaked. I could just picture his face; his eyebrows drawn together a little, his lips parted just a little, and his cerulean blue eyes looking at me with confusion and a little bit of concern. His hand tightened around mine._

 _"Y-Yeah…" Bucky said—not sounding hesitant, just a little confused. "I love you, Annie, I do." He told me, making me bite down hard on my bottom lip._

 _"Hey now, don't do that." Bucky said, his thumb and forefinger gently grasping my chin and pulling my bottom lip out from my teeth. "What's wrong, Glow?"_

 _"Shouldn't I be asking you something like that? Shouldn't-Shouldn't **I** be the one comforting **you**?—You were the one screaming and ripping pillows in your sleep." I said quietly, thankful for the dark. The dark made me feel like Bucky was a little farther away than right next to me—so close I could feel his warmth along the whole right side of my body._

 _"Maybe. I dunno. Answer the question." Bucky said, trying to hide his seriousness with a little teasing._

 _"When-When you say you-you_ _ **love me** -" I started to stumble over my words. I didn't get much out, because Bucky gently put a hand on the side of my face and turned my face towards him. I was still talking, and only stopped when I felt him kiss me. My eyes fell shut, and I let out a soft sigh. It didn't last that long, and seemed to hold more than our previous kisses._

 _"How much sleep did you get?" Bucky asked me once we parted, touching his forehead to mine._

 _"Uh…" I said dumbly, blinking a few times to clear my mind. "I-I…Maybe a few hours?" I guessed. I barely got the words out before I felt two hands on my waist lift me up like I was a rag doll and drop me down gently onto the other side of Bucky's bed. I let out a squeak when I landed on the mattress and a small sneeze as something tickled my nose. A feather probably._

 _I heard Bucky fall next to me, and with the cloud-dimmed moonlight I could just make out his face and sparkling eyes._

 _"When I say I love you…I mean,_ _ **I love you**." Bucky said after he got into a comfortable position._

 _"I…I don't know what that means." I admitted to him, settling my head onto one of the pillows._

 _"It means I think you're_ _ **amazing**." Bucky said automatically, not taking any time to think. "It means that I think you're real pretty, the most beautiful woman I've ever seen—I could go on for a while on that one, so let's circle back to it._

 _"You're smart. Smarter than me, smarter than Lyle, smarter than most of the people you work with. And you're not a…you don't rub it in people's faces like Lyle, you don't make people feel stupid. You just wanna do your part, help us out however you can out there. I think you'd go out there with us if need be."_

 _"Yeah…Yeah, I would." I said quietly, feeling my eyes start to burn a little. I sniffled once._

 _"Oh, I know you would." Bucky said, chuckling a little._

 _"I mean…You just…You glow, Annie." He finally said. "When you smile, and I mean really smile, it's impossible not to smile with you. And I'm not talkin' 'bout that little half smile you do when you're nervous, not that it's not the most adorable damn thing, but its…It's not the same…The corners of your eyes don't crinkle up unless you're really smiling. And they get this sorta sparkle in them when you smile…makes your whole face light up."_

 _He paused briefly. "That's why I love you. The short version anyway."_

 _All I could do was blink at him._

 _Of all the stories I'd heard from Kiku and Peggy about their dates, all the pictures I'd seen at the cinema, and the books I'd read with romantic scenes, this man, this half asleep, war-burdened, handsome, kind man, had just blown them all out of the water._

 _I opened my mouth to speak several times, but I couldn't seem to form words. Again I was thankful for the dark; I must have looked like a fish with how many times I was opening and closing my mouth._

 _"You know, you don't have to say it back." Bucky said, breaking the silence. "I mean, it'd be nice if you did. Sometime. But you don't gotta say it just 'cause I said it." He didn't sound upset, or angry, or even panicked. Bucky's voice was still that perpetually calm, content tone._

 _"I…I just wanna make sure you know, that's all." He explained. "You **need** to know that a lot'a people love you, Annie."_

 _I smiled a little bit._

 _"None of them love you as much as_ _ **I** do, of course."_

* * *

Omniscient POV

TJ was sitting on the floor.

Tony had been nice enough to give the young former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent his own lab space. But TJ knew he only got it because Tony couldn't stand how he worked. Like now; TJ had 57 files worth of hard copy files spread out around him as he sat cross legged on the floor. A stylist for the various touch screen applications was between his teeth, his eyes darting around the information that repeatedly popped up on the screen in three second intervals, and his hands moved expertly over the M24 sniper weapons system in front of him.

Steve gave TJ the rifle a few hours ago. Anna must have told the captain about the habit he picked up when he was stationed in North Africa for 18 months. It was a pretty hostile area; the only reason he was there was because he volunteered, trying to prove himself as a new agent. The lead shooter died in an ambush, and TJ was shoved up in the tower (being the only other agent with advanced sniper training). There was nothing to fidget with (fidgeting being TJ's nervous habit), so he assembled and disassembled his M24. In the months he spent up in the tower, TJ lost count of how many times he took apart and put together his gun; he guessed it was upwards of 250 times a shift.

After that, it became a way for TJ to keep laser focus.

Maria rapped her knuckles on the door frame of TJ's lab space. He didn't stop attaching the suppressor, but made an 'Eh?' sound around the stylist in his mouth.

"Thought I'd ask you one more time," Maria sighed, carefully stepping around the papers TJ had artfully spread out over the floor. "You sure you don't want to come up to the party? You _are_ part of the team, you know. No matter what Tony says."

TJ shook his head, mindlessly kicking the stand on the end of the gun with his fingers. He spat the stylist out of his mouth. "I'm good here."

Maria nodded, looking around the space TJ made his own. It was almost entirely tech, but there was a corner with a few books stacked on the floor and some pictures taped to the wall. The dark haired woman paused and looked at a particular picture. "I didn't know you had a girlfriend...She's cute."

TJ looked at the picture Maria had referenced and laughed once. "That's Zoya. She's my sister."

"Your file says you're an only child." Maria recalled easily. She had been a little skeptical and curious about TJ 'Disappointment' Barnes. She didn't really believe 'Zoya' was his sister; they looked _absolutely_ **nothing** like each other.

TJ had dark hair and brows, and a sharp nose with rather boyish features over the rest of his face. 'Zoya' had a rounder face and a button nose. Her whole complexion was much fairer than TJ's; she had creamy skin, blonde hair, and barely any color in her cheeks. They both did have the same intense blue eyes, though, but that's where the similarities ended.

"She's actually, like, my second or third cousin I think," TJ explained, starting to pull the gun apart again. "She came to live with me and my parents when she was eight. I was ten."

"Zoya..." Maria trailed off, going through the S.H.I.E.L.D. founding family tree with the unique name. "Zoya as in Zoya _Zolnerowich_?"

"Yup." TJ nodded. "After her mom died, Anna pulled some strings so she could live with us. So, we moved to Michigan and painted a room pale orange for her."

Maria nodded slowly. She knew about the Zolnerowiches' ties to S.H.I.E.L.D.; everyone did. They were _legends_.

Alexi Zolnerowich was KGB, but left soon after his encounter with Penelope Barnes (daughter of James B. Barnes' sister) so they could marry. When they were leaving the hospital with their new baby Ada, Penny was shot by Enrico Slavic in revenge for Anna killing Slavic's Nazi father when he was a boy. Alexi stayed with S.H.I.E.L.D., and Ada spent most of her childhood with her grandmother on Maui. Alexi died just before Ada turned 16, and that's when she joined S.H.I.E.L.D. Ada was the top asset in the Soviet block for years (Natasha was sent to kill her once; both attained gunshot wounds, but ultimately lived through the ordeal, and anybody who valued their safety didn't mention it to either woman). Ada eventually retired after one too many close calls, and bought a luxurious home just outside of Moscow. She married, and had a daughter; _Zoya_. Nobody _really_ knew what happened, but Ada's house exploded, killing Ada, her husband, and Zoya had massive head trauma. Anna stepped in (something Maria didn't know until quite recently), and Zoya spent several months in a private hospital in Iceland.

The last piece of the puzzle fell into place; Zoya went to live with TJ and his family.

"Where is she now?" Maria asked, unable to hide her curiosity.

TJ stayed dead silent, not looking at Maria.

She got the idea and left it alone.

"Come up if you get lonely, Barnes!" She called over her shoulder, getting a low grunt in response.

TJ glanced at the picture of Zoya and him again. They were in their late teens, 15 and 18 approximately, and it was taken just before he went to college. She was always a huggy person, unlike him who didn't really like human contact that wasn't necessary. Zoya had her arms around his neck in a tight grip, and had their cheeks smashed together as they grinned.

He made a mental note to write a letter to her soon. It'd been awhile.

* * *

Ellie came down to bring TJ a sandwich a few hours after Maria left. They chatted for a while, then she bashfully admitted she was going to the party upstairs. TJ, in turn, teased her about Steve for a moment or two, only to see her dark braid swinging over the small of her back as she dashed away.

The music and voices from the party as drowned out by TJ's music. He turned it down when the people left, but continued to work on his various projects while still assembling and disassembling the M24.

Abruptly, his music stopped.

TJ frowned and tapped the tablet by his knee. All he got was the little, annoying 'error' noise. Putting the gun aside, TJ took the stylist from the floor and examined the system. He groaned and headed up the stairs and to the lounge. "Tony?" He called. "Did you try 'nd lock me out again?"

When he didn't get aquick, smartass reply while in the hallway, TJ stopped. He tapped on his tablet and tried to get the feed from the lounge area, but nothing happened on his tablet.

"J.A.R.V.I.S.?" TJ called,, looking around the hallway. "Patch me into Tony please."

Again, nothing happened. The dark haired young man scoffed. "Great...Just _great_...Very mature, Stark...We're on the same _dang_ team and you lock me out entirely."

Walking with a little more anger in his step than before, TJ frowned deeply.

"Hey Stark-!" TJ's angry yell was cut off by a sharp yell. One of Tony's 'Iron Legion' helper-bots flew towards him, and ended up going through the window TJ was standing in front of. TJ dropped to the ground, his tablet shattering on the ground next to him. He looked up from between his arms, his intelligent blue eyes taking in the situation.

"What the hell is going on?" TJ yelled to Clint, who slid to safety under a table.

"The machines have started their rebellion," Clint snapped at the tech.

On the other side of the lounge, Bruce scrambled to get himself and Natasha over the bar.

"Go to Banner and Romanov!" Steve half-yelled in as calm a voice he could while still being polite while urging Ellie out from the corner she'd found between the couch sections. Steve ended up hauling the small brunette to her feet, then giving her a not-so-gentle, but life saving, shove to the floor. He followed her, landing on his side with his back to the robots firing at them. "Go! _Go_ Ellenore!" Steve yelled at her, pushing her shoulders towards the bar.

Ellie let out whimpers and screams on her half-crawl half-run to the bar, where she was grabbed and dragged over by Natasha. Bruce took her from the redhead, putting a comforting arm around her shoulders. He'd done it before; the doctor and Ellie had somehow gotten to a sort of friendship based on the fact that they both had very little control of their 'abilities.' He had helped her the most, giving her meditation tips, crossword puzzles and herbal teas he got from various parts of the world that helped Ellie get to sleep. In all honestly, Bruce felt bad for Ellie; to be so young and have such little control. The young woman in question currently had her hands pressed to her temples, eyes pinched shut as she rocked back and forth on the ground, humming 'Somewhere Over the Rainbow.'

TJ, after taking a few deep breaths, fumbled in his pockets, praying there was still a quarter-inch flathead in there somewhere. Curling his fingers around the grip of the screwdriver found in the side pocket of his cargo pants, he crawled out of the safety of the hallway.

Helen Cho was cowering behind a piano (that she'd never seen anybody play) as the top half of a helper-bot stared down at her with cracked light-eyes.

Using all of his training from S.H.I.E.L.D. (surprisingly little of which actually helped him in the situation) and Anna (most of her training scared him), TJ ran at the robot. Like Tony across the room, TJ wrapped his arms around the bot's neck. It didn't have legs for TJ to grip onto, so his legs were kicking futilely in the air as the bot flew away from Helen and over the lounge area.

The screw driver TJ had wasn't long enough to pierce the proverbial spinal cord of the bot like Tony's long thin metal skewer, so he held on with one arm around the neck of the robot, held the screwdriver between his teeth, and used the other hand to reach into the exposed mechanisms of the bot. He cut his fingers on split wiers, rough metal and was mildly electrocuted _at least_ four times. Finally, he felt the vital circuitry and wires sheathed in a thin metal casing at the back of the bot's neck.

The bot flew back first into a wall, and TJ couldn't hold back a yell in pain. The screw driver fell from his mouth and down to the floor; the floor 20 feet below his feet.

Something hit the bar, and Natasha became aware of the stale, dry feeling in the air. Her red curls were heavily sprayed, so they didn't stand up on end and play out like Bruce's curls and the renegade strands that had made their way out of her braid. It didn't take long for her to realize Ellie was responsible for the thick feeling of electricity in the air.

"Bruce, get her out of here," Natasha said calmly, checking the clip in her gun. "I'll cover you."

The dark haired doctor kept his arm around Ellie's shoulders and ran her up the stairs while Natasha shot at anything metal and flying. Once they got to the top step, a torn-apart robot was flung their way by Thor, inadvertently of course. Bruce grasped the material of Ellie's sweater to keep her from being flung away. Ellie, at the same time, threw her arms up to cover her head. They ended up in the corner.

With a yell that sounded somewhat like a battle cry, TJ summoned up all his strength from the deepest, angriest part of his soul (like Anna taught him), wound his arm back, and punched the vital circuitry of the bot. It's light eyes flickered out, and TJ fell down to the floor.

He never was good at thinking on the spot, something very clear as he moaned in pain on the floor.

"That was dramatic," a robotic, but oddly humanoid voice said. TJ slowly lifted his head from where it cracked against the hard ground.

"I'm sorry, I know you mean well," the voice said. It came from the mutilated, half-put together twisted Iron Legion bot standing by the main door.

Thor held out a hand to pull TJ up from the floor. The brunet stumbled forward from the force of Thor's pull. He leaned painfully on a broken table and guessed he had at least four broken ribs, going by how hard it was to breathe.

"You just didn't think it through," the bot continued, walking and stumbling around as he spoke.

"You wanna protect the world, but you don't want it to _change_. How is humanity saved if it's not allowed to... _evolve_?" The bot asked, reaching down to grab a dead bot from the ground. "With _these_?" The dead bot's head was ripped off with one metal hand.

"These _puppets_ ," the bot spat, throwing the metal body down. "There's only one path to peace...The Avengers extinction."

Thor wound an arm back and launched his hammer at the robot, shattering it. TJ flinched when Mjölnir came flying back into the god's hand.

A vibrating, echoy, electronic voice came from the still-lit head of the bot.

" _I had strings, but now I'm free...There are no strings on me..._ "

* * *

Helen was examining TJ's back, confirming his theory of broken ribs. When the robot, _Ultron_ , as Tony called him, was dead, Helen rushed down from her hiding place and threw her arms around TJ. She repeatedly gave him her thanks, and even kissed his cheek. TJ blushed a deep red, and stammered out something even he didn't know the meaning behind. The rest of the team was sifting through the broken material for their belongings.

"Hey Romanov," Steve called, shoving the destroyed sofa into the designated junk pile with one hand. "Where'd you send Bruce and Ellie?"

"Upstairs," she said in her typical detached-sounding low voice.

Clint was already heading up the good portions of the steps, looking for the doctor and the tiny brunette.

"Uh...You guys should see this!" The archer yelled down to the team moments later. Steve was the first to get to the steps, Thor not far behind.

In the corner of the hall at the top of the steps there was a...Well, Steve and Clint didn't have words to describe what they saw.

Clint came up with a decent description; the metallic, solid metal shape in the corner had somehow taken on the shape of drops of dye in water. The organic swirls and partially appearance were the closest thing in real life to describe the unnatural appearance of the metal.

Thor had slightly better luck putting words to the metal. When he and Loki were children at a particular _Jul_ festival, a sorceress performed at one of the 12 feasts. She was one of the most powerful in the nine realms, and once she was of age, she had already promised her services to Odin; she would be invaluable in battle. She came in with large blocks of lead, carried by dwarves. Her performance entitled her dancing and moving her hands intricately in the air, manipulating the lead as if it was water. It flowed through the air, turning bright colors and splashing into other liquefied lead in the air. When her performance was done, she stood abruptly still, and the lead (now bright shades of gold, silver and primary and secondary colors), froze in the air. It fell to the ground and stayed in the fluid, ethereal shapes.

Anyway you looked at it, the big silver metal shape was splashed against the corner, and bulged outwards in the center. It seemed to fuse to the ground and wall around it, fading into the particles of the material.

"What the hell is that?" Steve asked in a monotone, but oddly surprised voice.

"I do not know." Thor said, his usually booming voice took on a low, inquisitive tone. After waiting beat, Thor swung his hammer on the strap, took the grip and wound his arm back, readying to strike the metal.

"Wait!" Clint said, putting a hand on Thor's shoulder. He didn't really plan on stopping the god from swinging the hammer, but he could get his attention that way. Thor gave Clint an irritated look, but lowered his hammer.

The archer's sharp hearing had picked up something. His brows furrowed as he heard the soft tapping again. This time, Steve and Thor heard it too.

The captain lept forward. It didn't take much to gouge a hole in the drywall to make a grip on the metal. He pulled. Steve pulled so hard he thought he was going to burst a blood vessel somewhere. He stopped, and as he took a few breaths, shot a glance at Thor. Steve caught the god's eye and jerked his head to the metal.

Leaving his hammer on the ground by Clint, Thor went to the opposite side of the metal thing. He made a similar hole in the wall to make a grip for himself, then both blonds _pulled_. Their brows pulled together, their muscles strained, and they vocalized their struggles through grunts and hisses through clenched teeth. After several moments of pulling, the metal went flying away from the corner, burying itself into an already bent pillar. It took some floor and wall material with it.

Bruce was sitting against the wall, and had a hand up to shield his eyes from the sudden light. His other hand was resting on an unconscious Ellie's shoulder. Clint pulled the doctor up, and Steve checked on Ellie. Her pulse was strong, but blood was streaming down her nose and over her cheeks.

"Hey Helen!" Steve yelled, picking up Ellie's small body with ease. "I have another patient for you!"

He put her down on a relatively put-together portion of the couch, and TJ immediately insisted Helen tend to Ellie instead of him.

"Hey Cap!" Tony called from the second floor. "C'mere!"

Taking the broken steps two at a time, Steve stood next to Tony in front of the metal thing he and Thor pulled off Bruce and Ellie. Tony had what looked like an electronic jewelers loop in his hand, and he was looking through it at the metal embedded in the pillar.

"Feel this," Tony said, smacking the metal. Shrugging slightly, Steve grabbed an edge of the metal, rubbing his fingers over the cool, smooth surface. "Feel familiar?"

"...I guess?" Steve answered. The metal felt like, well, _metal_.

"It should," Tony said, picking up on Steve's slight sarcasm. He started down the steps.

" _You're girlfriend made vibranium!_ " Tony yelled over his shoulder, on his way to his lab.

"Ellie's not my girlfriend!" Steve yelled back.

* * *

" _I love you, Glow._ "

James looked up at Anna, waiting for her to speak.

Her face was frozen; it hadn't moved since he called her 'Glow.'

Slowly, Anna's jaw clenched, her brow furrowed and pulled up in the middle. She breathed something out, barely moving her lips.

"What'd you say?" James asked curiously.

"Why aren't I waking up?" Anna whispered in a shaking voice.

"Why would you wake up?" James asked, his own brows pulling together and up in the middle.

"Why aren't I _waking up_?" Anna asked, more frustration in her voice. She scrambled under the covers, fighting the sheets and comforter until she was free. Then in a very unladylike and ungraceful way, she clambered over James to the floor, where she began pacing around, grabbing at her head.

"Why would you wake up?" James asked again.

"Shut up!" Anna snapped at him, waving an angry, dismissive hand at James, who leaned away slightly.

"Why would you wake up, Glow?" James asked once more.

"Oh my _God_ —Stop calling me _Glow_!" She yelled at him.

"Why?" He asked with an oddly childlike curiosity.

"Because I'm not your Glow!" Anna snapped back.

Her harsh words stung James, but he just sat up and listened to the tiny whispered of a voice in his mind. "Yes, you are." He said simply.

"No, Jimmy," Anna said harshly, stopping her pacing and pointing an angry finger at James. " _I_ am _not_ _your Glow_."

"But...You are," James insisted softly. "He told me you are."

Anna stopped her angry pacing, and looked at James. "H-... _ **He**_ told you?"

James nodded.

Abruptly, Anna went to the fully stocked kitchen on the other side of the suite. James slowly stood and walked over to her as Anna opened drawers and cupboards only to slam them shut a second later. Finally, Anna found what she was looking for; cutlery. She was moving so fast and shaking so hard, the forks, knives and spoons rattled together.

When she got a grip on a fork, she slammed it down into her left bicep. "Wake up!" Anna ordered herself, eyes pinched shut. "Dammit Brightman _wake up!_ " She lifted the fork from her arm only to slam it back down.

Suddenly, the fork was ripped from Anna's arm and hand. In the split second she fought back, James just put a hand to her sternum and shoved her into the wall.

Anna looked up at James definitely, her eyes burning with so many emotions James couldn't even begin to name them all.

"Ellie's right," Anna laughed cynically. "I really _do_ enjoy torturing myself."

James eyes searched Anna's face, trying to decipher some of her emotions.

"Why do you keep trying to wake up from something that's not a dream, Anna?" James asked innocently.

"You said _he_ told you to call me G-... _he_ told you what to call me?" Anna asked softly, James nodded, surprised that Anna hadn't tried to remove herself from the wall.

Her eyes became wide and glassy as she looked up at him with wide, golden brown eyes. "Can-Can he...Can he hear me?" Anna asked in a small voice. James only blinked down at Anna, but a muscle in his cheek betrayed him by twitching.

Anna blinked rapidly to hold back tears, and slowly raised her hands up to James' face, her thumbs stroking his high cheekbones. "Hey darlin'..." she said in a shaky, sad voice trying to sound happy. "I-I've really missed you, you know..."

James face remained emotionless.

"I-I've been tryin' to make you proud," Anna said thickly. "I real-really have, you know?...I-I want you to know I'm gonna do everything I can to help you, you know that and don't forget it. No matter what happens to me or to you, I'm never goin' to stop helpin' you, sweetheart."

James brow furrowed, making a deep crease over his nose.

"I love you." He said in his low, flat voice.

Anna's eyes turned sad. "Sweetie, you gotta stop sayin' that."

"I love you," James said again, more insistent this time. His hand moved from her sternum to rest on her shoulder.

Anna shook her head. "Jimmy, sweetheart, you don't even know what those three words mean."

"They...They mean I love you." James said, confused by her words.

"Why?" Anna asked, already teary eyed. "Why do you love me, James?"

He, again, only blinked. "I love you."

Anna closed her eyes, and the grip on James' face tightened for a split second before it fell away completely. "James...Jimmy, baby, take a step back from me, please."

He obediently stumbled back a few steps. Looking at the multiple tiny wounds on Anna's arm, he thought for a moment, then pulled his t-shirt over his head. Anna couldn't hold in the little smile that came over her face as he ripped his heather gray t-shirt into strips.

Wordlessly, James began to gently dab the blood from Anna's arm. Once it was as gone as it was going to get, he tied a clean t-shirt strip around her bicep. Whenever he touched her, James fingers, metal and flesh, shook hard.

Once he tied the final knot, James looked down at Anna expectantly.

She wiped a renegade tear off her cheek and gave him a weak smile. "Thank you, Jimmy. Tending to my wound..." Anna trailed off and gave a half-assed smile. "It's very human of you."

"I love you." James responded automatically.

Anna laughed softly, examining the makeshift bandage. "You're just gonna keep on sayin' that, aren't you?"

"Yeah...Because I love you." James answered, nodding a little.

Anna looked down at the ground. "I better get used to it then, huh?" She mumbled under her breath. She glanced at the ovn clock out of the corner of her eye, and saw the time; 9:15 am.

"It's too early to be awake," Anna sighed. "C'mon lover boy, we need more sleep than we got."

The pair settled back in the plush bed, and James hesitantly put his right arm over Anna's waist.

"G'night Glow." James mumbled.

"G'night...You stupid Soviet." Anna mumbled back.

"I love you."

Anna closed her eyes, and smiled sadly. She wound her fingers through his. "I know you do, James."


	32. Chapter 32: 10443Z Part I

**_CCIDENT IN MY EFFORT TO ADD A SECOND AUTHORS NOT IN HERE, I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED THE FIRST POSTING OF THIS CHAPTER! _**

**_I AM SORRY MY CUPCAKES!_**

 ** _SAME CHAPTER AS POSTED WHENEVER AGO!_**

 **After 6+ versions, I've completed this chapter in a way that doesn't want to make me scream.**

 **I've been told that I have A LOT of side characters, and it's getting a tad confusing. I'm working on several family-tree sorta things to post on the site I have for this story.**

 **This chapter has** _ **another**_ **character. I like her backstory; but how she's here is a** _ **real**_ **stretch and** _ **I know that's not how 'it' works.**_ **I'll have a better explanation for her in the next chapter. I love her, I think she's awesome, I have a lot planned for her. And not to sound mean or unappreciative of my cupcakes (I LOVE YOU ALL MORE THAN YOU KNOW!), but this is** _ **my**_ **story. So, if you could just accept her into the story with some blind faith, that'd be awesome. :)**

 **A shoutout to my first real-life friend to read Beyond Repair, Pieces of Them and Ever After. I don't know when she'll get to this chapter, but** AnnaBanana625 **, you're AWESOME!**

 **Enjoy the chapter!**

 **~Christianne**

 **PS~ Reviews might help get a faster update!**

* * *

Omniscient POV

Steve groaned and rolled over. One of his muscular arms reached behind him and grabbed a spare pillow, putting it over his head to block out the ringing coming from the cell phone charging on his nightstand.

After the third call, Steve couldn't ignore it anymore. "What?" He croaked sleepily into the phone he'd smacked to his face.

" _Well, good morning to you to sunshine!_ " Anna's chipper, sarcastic voice said through the phone.

Steve looked at the clock by his bed. "Anna...I don't know what time it is in Greece, but it's 3 in the morning here in New York."

" _Since you asked, it's 10:00 am here. I just had the most_ _ **fantastic**_ _breakfast._ " Anna sighed. She tipped her head up and soaked up a little more sun from the clear sky.

"What's up, Annie?" Steve asked tiredly, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand. "What do you need?"

" _This isn't a call_ _ **for**_ _help, Steve,_ " Anna said, a smile clear in her voice. " _This is a call_ _ **offering**_ _help._ "

"Couldn't you call in six hours to offer help?" Steve whinned, falling back onto his bed.

" _Do you have any idea how many people would—and_ _ **have**_ _—killed to get my help?JFK left Marilyn Monroe in bed to answer one of my calls! Suck it up Rogers! You're getting my help, so wake up and listen!_ " Anna said, the smile Steve heard in her voice turned into a smug smirk.

"What help do you have to offer, Annie?" Steve asked in an exasperated voice.

" _I know about Ultron._ " Anna started out. " _I know about Ultron, the Maximoff twins, and Strucker._ "

"Ultron killed Strucker," Steve informed Anna in a still drowsy voice.

" _I know. I saw the footage. I have to say, if Ultron wasn't such a threat, I'd be on his side. He was a lot more merciful that I would have been with that Nazi-HYDRA prick._ " Anna said honestly. " _Anyhoo, HYDRA may be on the Avengers back burner for the next few days, but it's not on mine. That being said, I understand how serious this Ultron thing is, that's why I'm offering my help in this situation,_ " Anna said in a tone that impressed Steve. She sounded like a politician, like the PR people Pepper always had swarming around her. Anna sounded _in charge_.

" _In just a few minutes, a very reliable courier will be at the tower with a package that will prove vital in stopping Ultron and all his dastardly deeds._ " Anna continued.

"What's in this package, exactly?" Steve asked in a serious, but at the same time sarcastically-teasing tone.

" _Oh, I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise for you, Cap'n!_ " Anna laughed. " _But you should know, it'll take some convincing to get some team members on board with it._ "

"Which ones?"

" _Well...Hm...All of them. Maybe._ " Anna admitted. " _Less if you vouch for her first thing you get._ "

"How am I supposed to vouch for someone I've never met?"

" _Who says you've never met her?_ " Anna responded with cryptic playfulness. " _Gotta go Cap. Good luck with Ultron._ "

Steve looked down at his phone after Anna hung up and groaned. After the day he had, a good night's sleep sounded _really_ good, and no matter how good Anna's help was, it wouldn't get him his 18-hours. Begrudgingly, the blond pulled a hoodie over his head and left his warm, cozy bed.

He found himself wandering to the destroyed lounge.

"Kára?" Steve called from the second floor upon seeing a blonde woman below.

Said Valkyrie looked up at Steve; her grey eyes sparkled as she grinned. "Hey Stevie!"

"I'm guessing you're the reliable courier," Steve said as he walked down the remaining steps.

"According to Anna I am," Kára shrugged. "I mean, I lost a handful of nuclear weapons in the early 60s, but, yeah...I'm the _reliable courier_."

"You _lost_ nukes?" Steve asked, surprised by the casual mention of something so serious.

"The government misplaces them all the time," Kára said, shrugging dismissively.

"So, where's this package?" Steve asked after shaking his head.

"Over there," Kára said, jerking her head to the left. "By the window."

Steve looked at the only intact window in the lounge, and observed the package in front of them; the package was a young woman.

She looked to be in her early 20s, no older than 25, and had long, _long_ brown hair that tickled the back pockets of her jeans. There were small braids throughout her wavy hair, tied off with everything from leather scraps and metal beads, to another braid and some faded strands of string. Her jeans looked a little worse for wear and had patches on the knees, along the hems; pretty much 75% of the denim was patched. She wore multiple layers; an eclectic crochet sweater in a faded forest green, a cream long sleeved, slimmer fitting sweater and a bright red shirt under it all. She could have been wearing more, but her neck was covered with a light, multicolored scarf that gave Steve the word 'gypsy' as a first thought.

Her sleeves were pushed up to her elbows, and her wrists were practically covered by her various wrist wear. Leather bracelets, beaded ones, charm bracelets, at least two small scarves wrapped around one arm, and a handful of tarnished bracelets that held what Steve was _sure_ were precious stones. The girls nimble fingers, down at her sides, were heavy with rings that were as comparable as her bracelets; some new, some old, some modern, some vintage.

"I have always wanted to see a _real_ city," she said quietly, but Steve heard her. She knew he would hear. Her voice was heavy with an Eastern European accent that nagged Steve with familiarity. "I went to Kiev once...But that was years ago...1980, I think."

At the young woman's feet as a leather rucksack, made of more patches than leather. Charms hung off the straps from cording, and some looked older than Steve.

The young woman lifted her hand to press her palm to the glass. The bracelets she wore fell down to the crooks of her elbows, revealing the olive skin of her inner arm. Steve's eyes zeroed in on the row of numbers tattooed onto her skin. They were faded, stretched and warped, like she got the tattoo a _very_ long time ago. The row of numbers, ending with a letter, on the young woman's arm had been burned into Steve's mind, years ago— _decades_ , actually—the very moment he saw them. He knew he would never forget them, no matter how hard he tried.

"It is...It is so _bright_ ," she continued softly, her lips quirking up just the slightest.

Steve continued to stare at the young woman, trying to place her; he _knew_ he'd seen her before.

Finally, the girl turned to look at Steve, an excited smile on her face. "This must be what our ancestors see as the watch over us!" She giggled excitedly in her heavy accent. Her deep brown eyes sparked in a familiar way.

Finally, Steve was able to place this young woman.

She'd changed _so much_ since he saw her last.

" _Emilia?_ "

* * *

 **November, 1942**

 _A group of 16 small, shivering children stood by a railroad car. They huddled into groups to attempt to keep warm, but in the threadbare, worn out clothing they had been forced into let more heat out than they kept in._

 _One particular little girl was playing with the choppy ends of her hair. The man who cut it with some rusty shears had nicked her neck several times. The tiny specks of blood on the back and sides of her neck were hardening and scabing over painfully. Her other hand was grabbing at the rough material of the too-big frock she wore; her forearm was pressed to her chest, soaking the material with blood. The tattoo she'd been given pulsed painfully and hadn't stopped bleeding yet._

 _The little girl was clinging to an older boy by the name of Bogdan. She whimpered in their native tongue that she missed her long, dark, wavy tresses. He told her to hush in German, his eyes flashing nervously to the large men with guns in military uniforms only a few yards away. One older boy had been hit for speaking their native language; one hit to his little cousin like that would surely kill her._

 _While the cousins huddled together with the other children, an officer began ordering men around. They were loading up the train car just in front of the one the children stood in front of. The man in charge wore small black glasses, and had his white hair combed back under his hat. He shouted angry orders to the men around him. One man, holding an important looking box, tripped. He didn't notice the box split open in his haste to stand back up. He took the other items that fell from the box; gloves, packing paper, and what looked like metal tongs._

 _Bogdan tried to keep a grasp on the girl's frock (it was actually a shirt for an older boy, but it went nearly to the middle of her dirty shins), but his numb fingers slipped over the harsh material. He, horrified, had to watch his young cousin walk towards the gleaming silver object on the dirty ground. In their community, most called the young girl_ _ **coţofană**_ _or 'magpie,' because she could not pass up shiny, glittering object. The geometric object on the ground was the first shiny thing she'd seen in_ _ **days**_ _._

 _One man with a gun yelled in German, telling the others that the girl had walked out of bounds. Bogdan tried to run to her, but some other boys held him back; they didn't want to see_ _ **two**_ _others die._

 _The men raised and readied their guns, aimed at the three-year-old, yelling at her to back away._

 _Her small, chubby fingers left her choppy haircut to reached down to the gleaming_ _ **thing**_ _. They brushed the smooth metal, and she grinned as she lifted it from the ground._

 _The man with the white hair shouted a sharp order at the men with guns. They put them down and backed away from the little girl. The man approached the girl with a new box._

" _ **Put the obelisk in the box, please**_ _," the man, Dr. Reinhardt, told the young girl in German._

 _She had only been learning German for a few months when she was take away, so it took her several moments to understand what the man wanted her to do. Slowly, with a shaking hand, she put the shiny object in the box. Her demeanor turned disappointed as the box closed; it would most likely be the last shiny thing she saw, and the idea made Bogdan_ _ **sick**_ _._

 _Dr. Reinhardt gestured to the box again. He spoke in her native language this time. "Now, take it out again."_

 _The box opened before the little girl, and with both hands this time, the little girl took the obelisk. The doctor stood straighter and laughed, clapping his hands once as he babbled words of praise to the young girl. She smiled a little bit; she was small enough to accept praise for anyone, it didn't matter who._

 _Scientists swarmed around her. She clutched the silver pillar to her chest with her right arm while her left was forced out so the number on her arm could be recorded._

 _Bogdan hit a boy holding him back in the nose and ran to his cousin. He was slapped hard across the back by a Nazi, and fell onto his cousin._

 _With the obelisk pressed to her chest, the tiny human girl saw it change. She saw something come from inside it and it went into her; she smiled. It as like the shiny object she wanted to touch so much was feeling her fear; the ancient pillar knew the feeling wasn't_ _ **only**_ _fear. It was sadness, desperation, and an overwhelming_ _ **need**_ _to_ _ **save**_ _. To save as many people as she could, Bogdan, her brother, the other children._

 _The obelisk saw potential; it saw she needed assistance. It gave it to her._

 _When Bogdan as pulled off his little cousin, he saw her sitting in the dirt. The shiny object in her lap._

" _What is your name, little one?" Reinhardt asked with faux-tenderness; a miracle child was at his feet, he didn't want to scare her just yet._

" _D-Dalca," she answered quietly. "Emilia Dalca."_

* * *

"We need to go back to Sokovia," James said from behind Anna.

She jumped slightly, then groaned. Anna had just finished her call with Steve, and was really hoping to catch some more rays. "Jimmy, remind me to buy you a _bell_ ," she complained, referring to his tendencies to appear suddenly.

"We need to go back," he said again in his low, emotionless voice.

The suite the pair had in Greece had direct rooftop access . A good sized area was secluded for them by linen curtains. Anna was laid out on a beach chair in a bathing suit she'd purchased in the boutique in the lobby.

"The Avengers are there, they'll cover it," Anna sighed. "'Sides, didn't you want to hit up the HYDRA base in India?"

"Anna I want to go back to Sokovia."

She lifted her head from the plush headrest the chair provided and glared over her shoulder. " _Fine_." She groaned. "Just give me ten minutes to pack."

"I already packed," James said without hesitation. "There's a train leaving in an hour."

Anna laughed once. " _Of course_ there is."

She stood from her beach chair, and tipped her head to the sun once more, soaking up a precious few more beams of light. When Anna looked back at James, his brows were furrowed deep in thought.

"What?" She asked when Jimmy remained silent.

"What are you wearing?" James asked in that innocently curious voice of his.

"A swimsuit," Anna answered slowly, using the hair tie around her wrist to pull her hair into a ponytail.

"Are you sure?" James asked. "There-There's...There isn't much fabric there."

Anna smirked and walked to the door, a tiny-bit more swing in her hips. She paused when she was next to James, lifted herself up on her tiptoes and pressed a hand to his flesh shoulder for balance. " _It's called a bikini,_ " she whispered.

James turned and watched Anna, clad in only small triangles of fuchsia material with small white polkadots over it held together by strings, saunter to the door.

"I-I think..." James started to say. Anna paused and the door, resting a hand on the doorframe and turning partially towards him. "I think I like it," he finished his thought.

Anna smirked, her sun-kissed skin seemed to gain a bit more of a rosy flush. "Well then, I'm glad I got _this_ instead of the one-piece."

* * *

In New York, Emilia sat down across the counter from Thor, who was eating a _massive_ breakfast.

"Kára says you are from another land, yes?" She asked, linking her fingers, resting her elbows on the marble top and resting her chin on the backs of her fingers.

"Asgard," Thor said, mouth full. He swallowed before speaking again. "The realm of the gods."

Emilia nodded, looking over Thor's shoulder to Steve and Kára trying to convince the rest of the team to allow her to help. The god had no problem with Emilia helping; if a Valkyrie thought her to be worthy, how could he argue?

"Do you know of tarot cards, Thor?" Emilia asked.

"No," Thor answered. "What are these, cards of tarot?"

"They were created in the fifteenth century," Emilia explained. Though her accent was heavy in every word she spoke, her voice was a soothing husky tone that Thor found quite enjoyable. "A man in northern Italy made the first deck. I'm trained in the Rider deck by my adoptive grandmother."

Interested by the girls cryptic words, Thor asked "What does one do with these cards?"

"Many things...There are cards played with them," Emilia shrugged. "As a god, you must be familiar with the practice of divination."

The god in question scoffed loudly. "Fortune telling!" Thor laughed loudly, his booming voice echoed off the walls of the kitchen. "A trick, Lady Emilia, I can assure you."

"In general, yes," she agreed, inspecting her nails. "A...A _parlor trick_ , is the saying, I think. But not when I read cards. My _bunică_ used to say I had a gift."

Emilia smiled a little wider. "Besides, _everyone_ knows gypsies are _experts_ with tarot cards."

Thor was unfamiliar with the term 'gypsy,' but was intrigued nevertheless.

Emilia pulled a rectangular bundle from her worn leather bag. It was longer and wider than her hand, and wrapped in matted, dirty black velvet and bound with twine. "Would you like to know what the fates hold for you, Thor?"

"You know of the fates?" Thor asked, impressed. Not many people on Midgard were familiar with the Asgardian tale of the old women who weave a tapestry for every man, woman, and child; the gold thread that created the beautifully woven tapestries depicted the past, present and future.

Emilia rolled her eyes. "I am not an ignorant child, God of Thunder. I look young, but the body does not reflect the mind."

Looking over his shoulder, Thor saw his teammates still in the heated argument about the girl in front of him. Taking his observation as hesitation, Emilia snorted out a laugh. "I am _bored_ sitting here...Let me read your cards."

Thor pushed his plate to the side and put an elbow on the table. "Proceed."

Grinning, Emilia unknotted the twine and spread the velvet scrap out over the counter. Carefully, she set a deck of worn, stained, boxed cards in the center of the velvet. "Cut the deck," she told him. Her accent made the words come out as 'cut 'ze deck.'

Thor took the cards in his hands, stared at them for a moment, then split them into two piles. He put the two halves on the velvet, the left pile slightly smaller than the right. Emilia took both halves, and, with the skill of a seasoned Vegas dealer, she shuffled the cards artfully.

"First, I will read your past," Emilia explained, a heavily ringed finger hovering over the top card. She daintily lifted the top card and put it face up on the velvet.

Thor briefly examined the card, then let out one booming, proud laugh. "Strength!" He bellowed, taking the card from the table. "Your cards of tarot have a fondness for the obvious, my lady!"

Emilia rolled her eyes and reached over the table to pluck the card from the god's thick fingers.

"The cards are not to be taken so _literally_ , Thor," she explained, placing the card on the velvet. She took a deep breath, and took a second to relax.

"Not long ago, you were in need of a change in your life; in your attitude. You were...You were angry, too full of rage and violence. You didn't acknowledge or understand the dark, negative sides of yourself," Emilia explained slowly, thoughtfully. Her eyes glinted mischievously. "I've always embraced my darker side, I've found it quite... _fun_."

While Thor chuckled, Emilia plucked another card from the deck and placed it next to the first. "Ah...The Seven of Wands," she commented softly, trailing her fingers over said card. "As a god, a prince, and a warrior, I have no doubt that you have been in positions that others wanted for themselves. But more people respected you; they respected what you accomplished. I see...I see you having only two paths; forfeit or fight. The wands here represent your fire and passion when faced with these situations."

Thor was silent as he watched Emilia's thin, delicate fingers lift a third card from the deck. This one depicted a woman on a throne. 'The Empress' was under her. The god began to wonder if Emilia was going to tell him about his mother.

Emilia pulled her fingertips over the card, a smile tugging at her lips. "What is her name?"

"Pardon?" Thor asked.

"The woman," Emilia clarified. "There _is_ a woman in your life, yes?"

The god nodded slowly. "Jane," Thor murmured. "Her name is Jane."

"Jane... _Jane_ is the one who showed you how to keep your strength while attaining your goals, but loving and caring while doing so." Emilia said with a fond, but oddly somber smile. "You learned to put your heart and soul into all you undertake, but keep your control."

When she was done, Emilia looked up at Thor expectantly. "How did I do?" She asked sweetly, already knowing the answer.

"That was...That was very impressive, Lady Emilia," Thor praised, his voice going to a lower register.

"Now, your present," Emilia explained, sliding the three cards to the side. "I do readings differently...I only like to have one card drawn for the present. It does no good to tell people things they already know... _And_ I like to save my energy for the past and future."

She fanned the remaining cards out artfully. "Pick one.

Thor took his time pulling a card from the deck. Eventually, he took one towards the bottom of the deck.

"The Nine of Wands," he read off, giving Emilia the card. She calmly took it from him and put it on the velvet between them.

"You have seen many battles through all the realms...But your will remains intact," Emilia started slowly. The tips of her ringed fingers trailed gently over the border around the image on the card. "These battles have a price you continue to pay...Don't pick fights there there are none, and don't see trouble there there isn't any. You have plenty of real fights that need your full attention."

"Are you speaking of yourself, Lady Emilia?" Thor asked with a grin.

"Gypsies have been know to have a...hidden agenda. It's not my fault how the cards are dealt," Emilia answered mischievously.

Thor chuckled at her words, but hid the twinge of sadness well; his mother had told him similar words. 'Do not seek out fights in peace, and do not look for unrest in calm.' Emilia, a near expert on reading faces, saw his sadness and empathized with it; he'd lost someone, and she'd lost someone as well.

"And now your future," Emilia began, pushing the Nine of Wands away. She drew a card from the bottom of the deck, then drew two more, leaving them face down. Thor leaned forwards anxiously as she turned over the first card. Emilia's delicately arched brows furrowed as she looked at the eighteenth Major Arcana; The Moon. The card depicted two animals howling at a golden moon.

"Deception is imminent," she finally said. "Be on guard for things that are not as they seem in the place you accept everything. Take caution...Even when others do not. New information will come to you, perhaps in a vision or dream, but do not act in haste. What comes from your vision will not sit well with you. Remember accepting your darker, more wild side can bring peace; denial only brings chaos."

The second card was turned over; The Nine of Cups. This time Emilia smiled. "You are happy in your life now...Comfortable. While you reap the spoils of your past actions, the future only holds more. You've _earned_ this comfort. This is the _wish_ card, so strive for what you want. Life, and the fates, are on your side."

Thor smiled as she turned over the last card.

It showed a solemn looking man looking at three overturned cups, and his back to two cups still standing; the Five of Cups. Emilia had a melancholy look on her face.

"There will always be tragedy in life, this card signifies that it will touch yours once more," she told the god. "No matter how defeated you feel, never forget the standing cups—thoes who are still there to support you."

"You said tragedy will touch my life again," Thor said quickly, in a hushed (for him), urgent voice. "It has already taken my mother and brother from me, Lady Emilia. Do your cards of tarot say who will die next? My father? Lady Sif? Jane?"

Emilia scooped up her cards. "I am sorry, Thor. That is not how the cards work," she sighed. "I can give you another reading before you leave for Asgard,if you like."

"Thank you, Lady Emilia," Thor said, quickly standing and walking off to call his Lady Jane.

With Thor gone, Emilia was bored again. She looked up when someone wearing high heels came down the close hall. Maria Hill emerged, looking at her tablet.

"Agent Hill, yes?" Emilia called, turning in her chair to face her. Maria looked up when her name was called.

 _Former_ Agent Maria Hill wasn't inboard, per say, with Emilia's help, but she trusted Anna with her life and the lives of the Avengers. If she was Anna-Approved, Maria would find a way to deal with the gypsy girl. "Maria, please."

" _Maria_ ," Emilia said, testing out the name. Deciding that who liked it, Emilia grinned sweetly and did a few artful shuffles with her cards. "Would you know what the future holds for you?"

* * *

Anna POV

James and I walked through the chill streets of the Sokoine capital city with linked arms and matching neutral expressions.

"So _honey-bunch_ ," I started. "What made you want to come back here so fast?"

"I don't think they're all gone." James stated slowly, turning his face towards me as people passed by us. He flipped the hood of his jacket up over his head and hunched his shoulders. "HYDRA always has a second kill team."

"I ran their data," I reminded him. "There wasn't anything about a sleeper cell."

"There wouldn't be. They have verbal orders only." James said, his voice broke to a high pitched breath as someone passed by, brushing his shoulder. "We-We n-...We need to-to _find_ _them_."

I stopped and looked up at him. "C'mere," I said, pulling him off the street and into a dim alley. I pulled my arm from his and cupped his face in my hands.

" _Are you ok?_ " I asked softly, searching his face for any of the many tiny expressions he'd show now and then.

James nodded his head quickly under his hood, making his hair go into his face.

"You can smile around me, hold eye contact, keep your chin up...Why are you acting like you did three weeks after I met you?" I asked him.

James' eyes slid to the street; the sharp blue orbs was darting around at breakneck speeds to see every tiny detail. They didn't stop moving until my thumbs began to stroke circles on his cheekbones. His eyes slowly shut and his head lolled back towards me and hung limply over me. I felt two hands a searing flesh right hand, and a hard, gloved metal left hand, rest on my hips and pull my body towards him. I became so close to him that his head was practically looking straight down at me.

"They're-They're n-not-..." James stammered, then cut himself off. He took three deep breaths like I taught him, then spoke. "They're not you, Anna."

My eyebrows rose slightly. Memories of Bucky flooded my mind. When pretty girls sent him drinks at the pub or a nurse with too short a skirt gave him a bandage he'd always be his polite, playful self. The first few times I saw it happen, I would feel self conscious and just plain stupid for thinking I could hold onto a guy like Bucky; handsome, a gentleman and charming. He'd ask me what was wrong, I'd tell him, then he'd say that he'd never go with any other girl, I'd ask why, and he'd laugh. Bucky would answer me like it was such an obvious answer _They're not you, Glow._

I smiled a little. "So, if everyone on Earth was _me_ , you'd have no problem walking around the city?"

James opened his eyes a little and nodded. "Yeah...If everyone was you, then nobody would be trying to kill us."

I gave his face a gentle squeeze, then let it go. "I dunno, Jimmy. There have been some versions of me in the past that might want to kill both of us."

* * *

Omniscient POV

James stood still.

Anna was talking to him, unaware that he'd practically gone into a trance in the middle of the woods.

It wasn't too hard to find the HYDRA sleepers; they were the only ones not helping clean up the city, getting food or spray painting curse words on the ruins of buildings. All it took was a wad of American dollars to buy some out of date, but still usable sniper equipment. James took a roof on the north side of the building, and Anna took one on the east side. Seven shots later, they were on their way to a private air strip in the middle of the woods a few countries over.

As his left hand slowly went slack, James let his handgun fall to the ground. It made a soft, hardly audible noise, but Anna heard it. She turned to look at him, and frowned.

"Jimmy?" She asked carefully. "You ok there baby?"

James didn't blink; he didn't breathe.

Images flashed in his head.

 _Snow falling slowly._

 _A prayer over the door._

 _Crimson red blood in the pure white snow._

Anna watched as James took slow, stumbling steps towards the old, beaten down, abandoned building. Its materials didn't match in some places; like it had been damaged and repaired.

"It's the _Casa Tatălui Sfinte Copii_ ," Anna told him. "The Holy Father Children's Home." She repeated in English.

James kept walking.

"James, what's wrong?" Anna half yelled, dropping her bag as she began walking quickly to him.

He'd finally stopped at the stairs of the large, worn stone building. James fell to his knees in front of the first stone step.

"Do...Do you _remember_ this place?" She asked softly, not wanting to startle him.

James was looking at the rusty stain on the steps. It was soaked into the stone, under the years of dirt that covered it. He nodded.

"Where do you remember it from?" Anna asked, just like she did every time he remembered something.

"...I was here," he croaked, his voice weak and quiet.

Anna smiled, her heart swelling. She paused, then spoke. "In 1944, the Howling Commandos made a stop here. You rescued a little girl named-"

"I k-killed someone." James cut her off, his voice so thick with emotion it was barely understandable. He got that way sometimes. Just because he didn't understand emotions, didn't mean he didn't feel them. They came in tsunami sized waves that rendered him all but catatonic.

"No...No, baby, you never ki-"

"Yes I did!" James snapped hoarsely, grabbing his head painfully as he felt himself lose touch with reality. " _I-I !_ "

* * *

 _James was standing on the steps of the stone building. Snow reflected the light that came from the partially hidden full moon. The pistol was heavy in his hand._

 _The words the young man stammered out were clearer now._

" _Jakov...Jakov...Jakov-! the young man, with his chest in ribbons, wheezed out, grasping desperately at the material of James' pants._

 _Unable to stop the memory, James saw his left hand raise the gun and fire one shot._

 _It left a big hole over his right eye, and sent brain matter, skull fragments and a fine spray of blood into the snow behind him._

 _He stood over the dead body of the young man with the cane for a moment more, threw the empty gun at his chest, then went inside the orphanage. The heavy doors were locked; he grabbed the handle labeled 'Push' and yanked it out towards his body. James sidestepped smoothly as the door was flung several yards past the steps into the snow._

 _The inside of the orphanage was dark; the storm knocked out the electricity. Smoldering embers were in the fireplaces in the four corners of the rooms, giving just enough light to make out the long table against the north wall, the toy boxes and scattered dolls and plastic army men on the floor around them in the east corner, the desks to the west, and the radio and furniture around it to the south of the building. Not that he needed the embers to see it; James practically had night vision._

 _His orders rattled around in his head;_ _ **find the girl, soldier.**_

 _James went to the stairs and soundlessly ascended them two at a time._

 _The second floor was a long hallway of doors with more stairs on the other side. James began walking down the hallway, kicking open each door he passed. They were all empty._

 _The second floor was the same; all the rooms were empty. The bunkbeds with the thin mattresses and metal frames made an odd, uncommon shiver crawled up James' spine; he didn't like them._

 _The last door he kicked open wasn't a dormitory. It was a staircase._

 _Even with his featherlight steps, the rotted wood squeaked and bowed under his weight._

 _There was no door at the top of the stairs, only a curtain that had already been pushed aside. He stepped into the attic, pulling the curtain closed behind him._

 _His breath came out in soft white clouds and hung in the air like smoke._

 _James closed his eyes._

 _Mice were running to his left; 8 feet away._

 _A forgotten clock was ticking weakly in front of him; 17 feet away._

 _Breathing. More than ten small bodies breathing; 24 feet to his right._

 _James opened his eyes and took the gun at his hip. He walked towards the breathing and only found a wall. He pressed his flesh hand to the wall and pushed. It was paired with a frustrated roar that made several squeaks come from where the breathing was._

 _The push he gave the wall made it move. A portion of it swung back like a door, and the attic was flooded with light. James stood in the doorway._

 _There were more than seventy children crammed into a space half the size of the rest of the floors. They were two or three to a bunk, and many were on the floor. They all had identical looks of horror and fear as they looked at James from under their blankets. The oldest children looked no older than 13-years-old. It was the older children that held the infants and smaller children; three and younger was James' guess for the ages of the children being held._

 _Slowly, one little girl stood up._

 _Her hair was past her elbows and stuck up in a sleep-ruffled way. Her flannel nightdress had seen better days, and her socks didn't match. She was holding a woolen, patched blanket over her shoulders to keep in heat and she seemed to be using it as a cape._

 _She stood in the middle of the room, shaking, but looking at James with as much confidence as her little body could hold. "_ _ **I-I am not scared of you!**_ _" She tried to yell in Romanian, only it came out as a whimper._

 _James blinked at the girl, his lips twitching under the partial face mask he wore._

" _ **I have-have li-lived through**_ **Nazis** _ **! I am not scared of**_ **you** _ **!**_ _" She tried to yell again; it came out as a broken whimper._

 _Slowly, James approached the girl. The children on the floor skittered under the bunks and squished to the walls, giving James a wide pathway to the little girl. She didn't move until he was in a few feet of her._

 _His steps were slow and even as James approached the girl. She skittered backwards, tripping on her blanket a few times. She eventually let it fall from her small shoulders, James kicked it away onto some other children._

 _The girl eventually hit the wall of the hidden room, and looked in fear as James approached her slowly. His dead eyed stared down at her, his hair brushed his cheekbones and the metal on his left arm glinted from the light that came through the thin windows behind her._

 _James was less than a foot from the girl when he stopped walking. He reached his left metal hand out and took the little girl's slender wrist. His grip was strong, and hurt her somewhat, but it wouldn't even leave a bruise. She made little noises in pain and frustration as she struggled against his grip on her wrist._

 _She stilled, and the other children stopped breathing when the gun James held in his right hand came up from his side. Using the end of the gun, James pushed the sleeve of the girls nightdress to her elbow. She flinched when the cold metal touched her skin._

 _With her sleeve gone, James could see the identifiable markings on her inner arm._

 **10443Z**

 _James used his gun to pull the girl's sleeve back down, then he let her wrist go. She immediately clutched it to her chest, looking up at the man with wide brown eyes. She was trembling in fear._

 _James heard something behind him. He closed his eyes and turned his head to the side just barely, trying to get a better read._

 _Seeing her chance, the little girl dashed around James' legs in an attempt to escape from between him and the wall._

 _James turned on a heel and fired one shot from his gun._

 _He his his target. He always did._

* * *

 **Update: December 15, 2015**

 **It was brought to my attention that a few of my readers have some problems with how Emilia is portrayed, and I want to clear a few things up before I accidentally offend someone.**

 **Emilia Dalca is the little girl Bucky saves in one of the final chapters of Beyond Repair. He brother, Daniel, joined HYDRA to save her life after they were taken from their slaughtered community.**

 **With the risk of spoilers ahead, this is how she stayed young for 60+ years: as stated in this chapter, the obelisk sensed her need to save, and since she is one of the Inhumans (they're still called Inhumans even before they are, er, _given_ their _powers_ , right?), she got a fraction of her Kree-related abilities. Her ability is energy manipulation; she can manipulate small amount of energy (light a light bulb and make it light up, change a station on a radio, ect) but her stronger ability is to transform energy from one form into another. Emilia can, for example, take the electrical energy in the air and easily make it into nuclear energy and 'throw' that nuclear energy at someone who threatens her or her friends. Her ability to manipulate energy is why she was sent to the Avengers by Anna to stop Ultron. Emilia was 22 when she first killed someone (some mafia thugs trying to kidnap some of the girls at the orphanage) in 1964. She ran at the first man, put a hand over his heart and took the energy out of him; she did this three more times. She realized some years later that she had not aged; their 'life energy' as she will call it in coming chapters, went into her and greatly decreased her aging. She physically ages one year for every ten she lives (one persons worth of energy is about nine years).**

 **I don't want to reveal too much about her character, but this is most of the big stuff.**

 **Back to the gypsy controversy. Emilia was only three-years-old when the Nazis took her (five when Daniel returned) but some cultural and societal things had already been ingrained into her; how to dress and what to call herself to name some. It all has to do with _when_ she was growing up. **

**After Bucky reunited Daniel and Emilia in the village on the Romanian border, the Dalca siblings stayed there and helped rebuild the town. Daniel took over care for the orphanage and the children in it before he was 18. People came to adopt the children orphaned by war, and Daniel tried to get Emilia adopted by a good family. No one wanted 'the little gypsy girl.' Her adoptive grandmother (an old woman of Romani descent) told her that her heritage was nothing to be ashamed of and taught her to embrace it. _This was all in the late 1940s and early 1950s_. Not to say that the Romani group didn't have issues with it then, but 'gypsy' was what they were called by most of the Western world at the time. **

**I'm sort of aware (I did a mild amount of research) of the use of the term 'gypsy' today; I used Romani in Beyond Repair when talking about the Dalca' heritage. I will not lie here; at least three people messaged me and asked me what a 'Romani' was.**

 **Emilia is kind of like that grandparent we all have who still uses old terms for things and it too set in their ways to change (and says things that are racially insensitive and don't mean it to be).**

 **On a more personal note, I'm of the mind that anybody of any religion, race or ethnic group can call themselves pretty much whatever they want (within reason, or course). I wrote Emilia as Romani, and with how I have her envisioned in my head, she would call herself a gypsy; that's what she was called for the first two decades of her life. Not to mention that the 'Z' tattooed on her arm at the end of her Nazi-given number stands for the German word for 'gypsy.'**

 **Emilia is primarily the person in this chapter who uses the word 'gypsy', with the acceptation of Steve making the observation about her attire. But when he met Romani in the 40s, they were called gypsies, and he's super cute and old, so I cut him some slack. I'm sorry if that personal preference isn't shared with everyone; sometimes a bit too much _Christianne_ gets shoved into my stories.**

 **I'm really really sorry if I offended anybody with the use of the word 'gypsy' in this chapter, it wasn't my intention at all. I did research on Romani history and culture, but it was sort of hobby-writing and 'full time high school student taking two AP classes' research. Also, I had a hard time finding anything pre-1960s about Romani culture (Nazi intervention aside). If anyone has links or information about this, PLEASE TELL ME, MY CUPCAKES! Like I said, this is my fun, relaxing hobby, so my research is, like, 70% of what I usually put in for a school project. Research isn't fun for me. Writing Winter Glow fluff is fun for me.**

 **Sorry again, really I am.**

 **Love you all so much!**

 **~Christianne**


	33. Chapter 33: 10443Z Part II

**Ok, first, happy holidays to all! Merry Christmas to those of you who celebrate it, and to those of you who don't, I hope you enjoyed whatever you do, or don't, celebrate!**

 **And, on December 24, I turned 18! Yay! Now I can stop lying about my age online, call in and answer things on the radio, get a passport, and legally drink in Canada (I think).**

 **Now that I can have a passport, I'm planning my trip to the UK/Europe after my high school graduation. Any suggestions for sights to see while I'm in what looks like the coolest places in the world?**

 **This chapter is a little rough; the ending especially. I've started the AoU plot line, but I didn't have the movie on BluRay until the 24th, and I haven't had a chance to watch it. :( I hope to have a chapter up New Year's Eve/New Year's Day, and that one should be LOTS better. I hope, anyway.**

 **Be nice to me my cupcakes! I love you all! And if you have anything you want to say or ask, message me or leave a review!**

 **~Christianne**

 **PS~ The first really big section of italics, that's a dream. The italics at the end, that is a continuation of the end section of the last chapter.**

* * *

 ***UNEDITED***

* * *

Anna POV

It took significant effort on my part to pull James out of the chilly, darkening outside, and into the crumbling building. I shut the make-shift doors (plywood bolted to the rotted doors and closed by a chain and padlock) behind us and quickly started a fire in one of the four fireplaces on the first floor.

James hadn't spoken in his sleep in months; when he started keeping eye contact with me, he stopped murmuring in seven languages in his sleep. He was talking in his sleep now. I tried to understand the slurred mess of Russian, Romanian, what I think was Mandrin, and at least two other languages that came out of his shaking lips.

I took some of the less-moldy mattresses from the floors above us and yanked James onto them; his legs hung off the end. The tactical side of my mind took over; I checked all our ammunition and pulled some of the desks to our corner as a little more protection. When I could finally relax in the tactical nightmare we were holed up in, I sat down on the edge of the mattresses and rested James' head in my lap.

While I carded my fingers through his hair, I looked around the orphanage.

I funded its rebuild in 1946, and visited whenever I was in Eastern Europe. Daniel did a wonderful job of caring for the children here until his death, and Emilia after him. After the attack in the mid-1960s, I tried to keep the doors open. Red tape got in the way and made it pretty much impossible.

With the fire fanning me with warm air, and James acting like a space heater with arms that curled around my legs, it wasn't long before I fell asleep with my back against one of the desks.

* * *

Omniscient POV

 **New York**

There were three firm knocks on Kára's door.

"Go. Away. _Thor_." The Valkyrie groaned, pulling her cashmere duvet over her head; she could practically sense his hulking aura.

"Kára," Thor called through the door. "I wish to speak to you about an important matter."

"Go the fuck away!" Kára snapped harshly.

"This is of the utmost importance, Kára." Thor insisted.

"I just flew from Norway, to the jungle region of India then to New York. Valkyrie or not, I need sleep!" The sleep-ruffled blonde yelled from under her blanket.

"I come baring gifts from Asgard," Thor said through the door.

"Why on Earth would I want anything from that gods forsaken realm?" Kára snapped, jolting up in bed.

"The All-Father was impressed with your actions, Kára. He wishes for you to be rewarded."

Kára took a beat to think. "Considering that he barred me and my sisters from Earth _and_ Valhalla, threw me in a _hole_ under the palace, planned to kill me and killed my sisters, _why_ would I want anything _he_ would give me?"

Thor, mildly annoyed, asked again to enter. If _anybody_ else had been on the other side of the door, Thor would have barged in already. But Kára was special; she was, is, and forever will be a Valkyrie in Thor's eyes.

"May I _please_ enter your chambers, Kára?" Thor asked formally.

Kára rubbed her eyes tiredly, and flipped on the light next to her bed. "Yeah...Sure...Whatever," she trailed off, then recalled how she used to answer that same request.

She cleared her throat and spoke a little louder. "Enter, Prince Thor."

The God of Thunder walked through her bedroom door, a bundle under his arms.

"So, what's the bearded cycloptic King want me to have? Are his former subjects getting paperweights or something?" Kára asked sarcastically.

"Oh! Oh! Is he giving everyone on of those big metal cans of popcorn with the three-way divider thingy in the middle, and it has salted popcorn in one part, caramel in another, and cheddar in another?"

Thor only blinked in response. "No, the All-Father is not giving his subjects _paperweights_ , or _special popcorn_. Although, the latter sounds interesting."

He took several more steps into Kára's room, and put the bundle down on the bed.

"My father wished me to give you this," Thor said as he unwrapped the leather from the object.

Kára's hands flew to her face, covering her mouth and nose as she gasped.

"I am aware that you were told this was destroyed by members of the All-Father's guard." Thor spoke when the blonde said nothing. "They...They were _unnecessarily cruel_ to you. You have my word that they will be dealt with accordingly when I return to Asgard."

Slowly, with shaking hands, Kára reached towards the silver, yet golden gleaming helm on her bed. Her fingers trailed over the dainty, intricately carved feathers that swooped down to create beautiful wings. A Valkyrie's helm was one of their most treasured, and powerful possessions. While they had the ability to summon their armor at any time, putting on their helm would transform them into their full battle armor; plated gowns and corsets, spears, shields and spread wings.

"I never..." Kára's voice got thick, and her accent, so similar to Thor and Loki's, slipped back into her voice. "I never thought I'd see this again."

She somehow forced her hands to take up the helm and bring it close to her chest.

"I will leave you to reacquaint yourself with your armor, and to your rest, Kára," Thor said, going to the door.

"Why don't you call me 'lady'?"

Thor stopped and turned towards Kára in slight confusion. "Would you prefer I address you as Lady Kára?"

" _No_ ," the blonde woman said quickly. "Trust me, just about every human woman in this generation won't really like it much. I was just wondering...I mean, we know each other from before I fell, you? I just wondered why I'm not Lady Kára."

Thor thought for a moment. "The title of lady is meant as a sign of respect. Valkyrie or not, my respect for you is great, it is so great that a simple title such as 'Lady' would not begin to address my respect."

With a slightly stunned look on her face, Thor bid Kára good night and left her chambers. The last Valkyrie sat in her bed, covers piled in her lap, as she held her long lost helm.

The last time Kára prayed to the gods was only days after she fell to Earth.

She brought her helm to her face, the arched brow of sculpted feathers was even with her own, and she pressed the cold metal to her forehead, feeling her crest in the middle.

In a hushed, whispered voice, Kára softly chanted a prayer in her native tongue.

" _Gods and goddesses,  
Æsir and Vanir,  
I thank you for the blessings  
You have given me.  
I ask you to continue to bless me  
And help me face the decrees of the Fates.  
With courage and honor,  
I ask you to help me do what is best  
For my faith,  
For my folk,  
For my family_-"

Kára choked up. The last time she'd said this prayer she still had a family to refer to.

She swallowed thickly, tears dripping from her cheeks to her helm.

" _My-My family,  
This and every day.  
Hail to the high ones.  
Hail to Thor.  
Hail to-...Hail to __**Loki**_ _.  
Hail to Freya..._"

Kára paused again, clenching her jaw in resolve and licking the tears off her lips before saying the final name in the prayer; the man she blamed for the ruin her life had become.

" _ **Hail to Odin**_ _."_

* * *

Anna POV

 _I was standing in the middle of the orphanage. Warm fires were burning brightly in each corner. The feeling in the room was...calm._ _ **Erie**_ _, but calm. I was just about to to start looking for James when the fireplace behind me went out._

 _Spinning around quickly, my loose, curly hair swung around my head. I grabbed it out of my face and shoved it out of my way._

 _Another fireplace went out, making me turn abruptly. I looked at my wrists for a hair tie, only I didn't find a hair tie. I wasn't in my stretchy, thermal tactical gear either; I was dressed in a long sleeved, floor length gown with multiple layers in various coordinating shades and patterns of green._

 _The third fireplace went out. I spun again, and crossed my arms over my chest; it was starting to get cold in the room. My breath came out of my mouth and nose in smoky white clouds. The blonde atrocity made by my hair, didn't get in my face this time._

 _I reached up to my hair line and felt something cold and heavy. There was a dirty mirror over the only remaining lit fireplace; I rushed to it and wiped the grime, frost and dust away with the cuff of my gown. There, on my head, was the God-forsaken diadem given to me by-_

 _A cool breeze blew in my ear, making me flinch uncharacteristically. I didn't flinch; when I was in North Korea, tied to a chair and had an electrified knife waved under my nose I didn't flinch. But this breeze made me finch._

" _ **My dear...**_ _" A smooth, silver voice breathed._

 _I stepped towards the fireplace, holding the mantel piece to ground myself. In the months following New York, I found that grounding myself made it easier to retaliate._

" _ **I am weary, my pet...**_ _" He breathed in my ear. It was like he was next to me, speaking softly in my ear; but he wasn't. He was here, but not next to me. Not yet._

" _ **Be kind to me, my dear. Be kind to your master...Help me forget the horrid life I've lived in very way you know...Tell me a story, dear Annabelle, my queen...**_ _"_

" _Sure," I ground out through clenched teeth. "It's a little tale called 'Go Fuck Yourself.'"_

 _Suddenly, he was there; behind me. His armored, leather covered arms stretched out on either side of my body. His long fingered, pale, strong hands gripped the mantel. Through his arms were long enough to reach the mantel and not have his chest touching my back, he opted to have his chest flush against my back. I could feel the leather folds, metal rivets and buckles and the_ _ **presence**_ _he oozed._

" _ **Oh, how I love it when you are stubborn, precious pet...An icy heart to rival my own...What must I do to melt it? Burn it, boil it with both love and lust?**_ _"_

 _I hated this. I hated_ _ **him**_ _. I hated what his voice did to my mind. It was Iike my own thoughts were being sucked out by every silver-spoken word._

 _I pinched my eyes shut; the constant fight to keep him out of my head was like a railroad spike being jammed between my eyes. A tear trickled down my cheek from the pain._

 _The soft, cool pad of a finger brushed it away, and lingered on my face._

" _ **Sweetheart...You need not hold back your tears. Cry if you need to. I'll not think any less of you for showing me your fear.**_ _"_

 _I began to cry harder._

" _ **I know I am a monster, my love. I've spilled the blood of innocents, but I would do anything to make sure that you stay with me. Forever...Please, my darling Anna, never leave me...**_ _"_

 _I didn't try to hold my back my tears now. The pain in my head was too much._

" _ **There's something about you, Anna...Something I can't put my finger on...**_ _" He nuzzled through my hair until his cold nose was against my skin. "_ _ **The smell of you...**_ _" His hands pulled up my arms, over my chest until they held my hips. "_ _ **The sight of you...While intoxicating, it is nothing compared to the**_ **feel** _ **of your body.**_ _"_

 _He took a slow, hissing inhale._

" _ **It does something to me. It is the same for you, isn't it? That unbearable tug inside of your chest...I wanted to keep you, my sweet Anna...You were taken from me before these feelings could be interpreted.**_ _"_

" _St-Stop it." I whimpered through the tears streaming down my face._

" _ **Don't tremble, my little Midgardian wonder...**_ _" He tutted. "_ _ **I am here to calm your soul and drive your torments away...**_ _"_

 _His nimble fingers pitter-patted over my skin, making tremors shoot through my body._

" _ **Why do you shake so, Anna? Cold?**_ _" Green light flickered over the dying fire, igniting it again. "_ _ **Regardless of my Frost Giant side, don't be intimidated or misguided...I shall protect you, and bestow to the warmth of my body.**_ _"_

 _I found a scrap of confidence within my head and grasped onto it as tight as I could. It made me fight his grip on me._

 _He tutted at me again, tightening his grip on me. "_ _ **Don't struggle, my pet, don't struggle...Calm your weary heart and relinquish to me what troubles you so.**_ _"_

" _Do-Don't_ _ **lie to me!**_ _" I coughed out._

" _ **I will never lie to you, my pet.**_ _"_

" _Don't_ _ **lie to me**_ _and say you'll_ _ **protect me**_ _." I growled out. "T-Tell the truth for_ _ **once**_ _in your_ _ **worthless life!**_ _"_

 _The hands that trapped me to the mantel grabbed my shoulders and spun me around. My back was slammed into the marble mantel piece so hard I think a few of my ribs cracked._

 _He was both calm and livid with anger; only the God of Chaos could have that expression. His hair was longer than when I saw him last, a little less slick, and it had a curl to it. His skin was somehow more pale, but not palid or sickly. It was like he hadn't seen sunlight in months._

" _ **You want the truth, my pet? You want me to reject the very nature of what I am?**_ _" He growled at me._

" _Fuck you!" I choked out in a scream. "Get out of my Goddamned head!"_

 _He only blinked at me, like he hadn't even heard me._

" _ **...Very well...I will confide in you the secret that plagues my thoughts. The only time I've truly felt fear as your pitiful fellow mortals do is when the threat of losing you became so real that I can practically feel you fading away,**_ _" he breathed, growing closer to me with every word._

 _I turned my cheek to him in a last ditch effort to get away from him. "You-You_ _ **already lost me**_ _." I whispered. "You-You're_ _ **dead**_ _."_

" _ **Don't ever fade away from me, my dear...Don't ever slip through my fingers...**_ _"_

 _He took my face in his icy hands, forcing me to look at him._

 _His eyes were dead._

 _I remember, decades ago, when I first met him how intrigued I was but his eyes. They were a deep, mischievous green that was hard and cool. But when we spoke in the library, they softened to a murky green that was childlike and lost, searching for hope and meaning._

 _Now, they were cold, hard and dead._

" _ **So long as I draw breath, no more harm will come to you, my darling Anna. I swear to you with every fiber of my every being. You are under my protection.**_ _"_

 _His face came even closer to mine; I could feel his cold breath on my mouth. His heavily lidded eyes fluttered._

" _ **You are mine, Anna...And if anybody else cares to dispute that fact, I will gladly rid them of their tongue.**_ _"_

 _I could feel his dark power win my mind. I surrendered to him; my body slouched limply forward, and clung to his jacket desperately._

" _ **Who is your king, my beauty?**_ _" He purred in his silver voice, stroking my curls._

" _You are," I breathed._

 _A cold kiss was pressed to my forehead. "_ _ **Say my name, my pet. Please, I need to hear it spoken without malice, contempt and the vial hatred as it is spoken in Asgard. I need to hear my name spoken in the honey silk that drips from your rosebud lips like the early morning dew drawing over the skin of a ripe apple...My love, who is your king?**_ _"_

 _My answer came out as a needy breath._

" _Loki."_

* * *

I woke up with a desperate inhale, like my lungs were deprived of oxygen for hours.

After several rehearsed mantras to prove my mind was my own, I realized James' head was no longer in my lap.

He was still on the mattresses I'd put him on, only instead of drowsy and slow moving, he was panicked and angry.

James was trying to get out of the building as fast as he could, but the ratty blanket I'd thrown over his long legs made him fall forward. His metal hand clawed at the wooden floor, pulling himself towards the door as his legs kicked at the blanket like a child.

When James finally scrambled to his feet, he shot out the door, not bothering to open it; all he did was turn to his left a little and and ran right through the rotted wood and plywood, breaking the padlock and chain.

I, of course, put aside my nightmare about Loki and ran after him.

James was pacing in the dark, grabbing his hair painfully as he spoke rapidly in a slur of Russian and Romanian about a string of numbers, a little girl, a young man and shooting someone.

" _HEY!_ " I yelled at James, grabbing his waist since I couldn't catch his face. " _You need to calm down!_ " I ordered at him in Russian.

" _I killed her I killed her I killed her I killed-!_ " James whimpered over and over and over in Russian. He'd stopped pacing, but he continued to yank on his hair and yank at his hair as he jerked violently.

" _You did not kill anyone here!_ " I screamed at him. I didn't really want to scream at him, but I didn't know how else to get through to him.

"Yes I did!" James roared at me, abruptly switching to English. When he yelled at me, his hands left his hair and seized my shoulders. He pulled me up so I was eye level with him; the tip of my boots only just brushed the ground.

"I was sent to this place for a HYDRA mission!" James yelled in my face. "I killed an older boy with a cane with seven shots to the head and one to the head! After I blew his brains out I broke through those doors and found the kids in the secret room! I found my mission and when she ran I turned and _shot her!_ "

James voice began cracking and choking at the end. When he spoke about his 'mission,' one of the girls I assume, his head came forward. With his eyes closed, he desperately put his head on my shoulder and breathed down my neck. I awkwardly, numbly bent my arms to try and pat his arms.

"James...You're hurting my arms," I whispered half a moment later.

He quickly, but gently, dropped me on my feet. Once he was sure I was steady, he took a few quick steps back; his face was red and puffy, like he was moments away from tears.

I had to have had a similar look on my face as I tried to process what I'd been told.

"A-An-..." I trailed off, looking from the ground to James. "An older boy with a cane?" I repeated slowly.

James, eyes full of shame, turned away from me.

"Did-Did he have brown hair? And...And green eyes?" I asked him, not sure if I wanted to know the answer.

He had his back to me, shoulders pulled forward and hands in his hair. James turned towards me just a little. "...Yes."

I couldn't hold in the little choked sound that left my lips. I covered my mouth quickly with my hand, and put the other on my hip. My head tilted back to look at the night sky, trying to use gravity to suck the tears back into my head as I paced.

"You know who he was." James stated flatly, finally facing me. I caught a glimpse of his helpless face.

"Who was a he, Anna?"

My eyes snapped shut, and hot tears fell down my cheeks. The wet trail they left stung with cold as they dripped off my jaw line onto my jacket.

"Who was he Anna?" James asked again.

I shook my head, trying to force myself not to tell him; I'd been so good about not forcing the past— _his_ past—on him.

"Anna... _Tell me_." James begged, his voice hoarse.

"His name was Daniel Dalca," I whispered. I wanted to speak at my normal volume, but it wouldn't come out as anything but a whisper. James could hear me anyway.

"You-... _Bucky_ rescued him from HYDRA compound in 1944," I started slowly. "He was trapped by a beam that fell on his leg...That's why he had the cane.

James' expression didn't change at all.

"You rescued his little sister from that building," I paused and jerked my thumb towards the abandoned orphanage. "Nazis blew through and blew the village half to Hell, but you got her out...Gave her back her big brother to."

James didn't move. I couldn't even tell if he was breathing.

"Are you mad at me?" He finally asked. His voice was full of shame and hurt; the child like innocence that sometimes lingered in his deep, rough voice was there.

"No." I sighed. "I'm...I'm..."

I don't know what I was.

Guilty; a little. Maybe.

Mad; not really.

Disappointed; in the world, not James.

Disgusted; hell yeah. HYDRA signed off on killing a boy just shy of his twentieth birthday.

Heartbroken; for a lot of reasons, but specifically that I broke my promise to Emilia.

"I made a promise to his little sister," I finally said, making James look at me. I laughed cynically. "I promised her that I'd kill the man who killed her big brother."

James only blinked at me; his eyes burned with fear, hatred, agony and shame. "You...You promised her you'd kill... _me_."

I snorted out a laugh. "I was young, blood-happy and stupid when I promised Emilia that. I doubt she remembers now, anyway...Stop worrying, baby. I'm not gonna kill you."

He raised a brow at me.

"Do you really think that I would have spent the last year _trying to protect you_ , only to kill you _now_?" I asked, taking a step towards him—involuntarily of course—and he quickly stepped back.

James looked at my face intently, his eyes narrowing slightly and his head cocked to one side just the slightest bit. "You...Anna you had a dream about him, didn't you?"

I only blinked in response. "We're not talking about me right now."

"You did," James said, nodding a little. "You had another dream about him while you slept, didn't you?"

"I just watched you run through a door like a _ram_ , and you want to talk about a dream that I _may_ or _may not_ have had?" I asked, watching as he shuffled a minute step forward.

"...Yeah," James finally answered. "What'd he do in this one?"

I scoffed and started pacing myself; it was getting to be too much.

"Did he hurt you, Anna?" James asked.

"Not now, baby," I sighed, rubbing my eyes hard; hard enough to see those bright, floating blobby shapes.

"In-In your head is the only place I can't protect you, you have to tell me if he hurt you-"

"I can't handle this!" I yelled at him, spinning around. He'd taken a few more steps towards me, his face was apprehensive more than anything, but there was still some shame lingering in his eyes.

"I can handle _your_ screw mind, I can handle being _here_ -" I paused and threw an arm towards the orphanage. "-and I can can handle Loki, but not all at the same time! At the same time, I'm pretty damn sure it'll kill me! Since _you're_ more broken than I am, lets sort you out first, then we'll _consider_ getting into the _tangled spaghetti mess_ my head is!"

I was breathing heavily when I was done yelling, and James had actually come closer to me. He stared at me for a moment, then looked towards the building; the moon was partially shadowed behind some clouds, making it a dimmer light.

"I know why I need to go in there, Anna." James said quietly, moving to sit down on a fallen tree a few feet away. He had that thousand-yard-stare goin' on as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees; if someone saw him from behind, they'd think he was relaxed, but his face was _so pained_.

"I know why...To-To see if it brings anything back, right?" He asked, not looking at me. His flesh hand lifted up and hovered a moment in the air. He moved it slightly, his fingers grasping the air. He caught onto the material of my loser jacket and tugged me until I was next to him on the rotten log.

"Yeah...Yeah, to see what it brings back," I answered him, copying his pose, elbows on the knees. I probably had a similar thousand yard stare too.

"Remembering...Remembering is good, it-it undoes what they did to me..." He finally turned and looked at me. "I don't want to remember what I did in there, Anna."

James looked so helpless.

"I-I d-don't...I don't know if I want to know what I did in that building..." He said slowly, looking back at it.

"Did he like kids?" He asked suddenly; we'd lapsed into silence.

His words jolted me out of my thought about my dream; I'd started shivering when I recalled how his icy hands and breath attacked my skin. "What?"

"Did he like kids?" James asked again, still looking at the orphanage. "...The-...The man I was _before_...Did he like kids?"

I paused. "Yeah."

"I...I think I knew that," James said in a pondering tone. "When I saw what I did to the little girl, he-he was...He wasn't angry with me. He was scared for her."

A flicker of a sad smile crossed my lips. I spoke so softly I could barely hear myself. "He told me he wanted enough kids to have our own little league team..."

"...How many kids are on a little league team?"

"I don't know, really...It always hurt to much to think about."

Quiet.

"Did you want that many kids?"

"I wanted as many as I could give him...He was really good with kids...We would have adopted, though."

"...Why?"

"I can't have kids."

That really seemed to light a fire under him.

"Why-Why not? Are-Are you sick? Did-Did you get hurt?" He stammered out, eyes widening as he looked at the orphanage. His fingers curled into fists, his shoulders shook, the metal plates in his arm began to shift and clink as if he was preparing to fight.

I stood abruptly. He looked up at me, and his eyes made my heart break; helpless and worried. I held my hand out. "C'mon, you need to face this Jimmy."

Slowly, and to my surprise, he put his metal hand in mine. He closed his fingers around my hand slowly. Usually when we held hands, our fingers interlocked. James didn't do that this time; he was probably worried that he'd pinch my skin like he did when we danced in Poland. Instead, his cold, metallic palm pressed to mine, and his fingers wrapped around the side of my and rested on the back of my hand.

I started tugging my brainwashed boyfriend towards the orphanage.

...

James stared at the wall he stood in front of; his nose was at most seven inches from the cracked, dusty plaster wall.

I'd taken him up the steps to the first floor. He had a melt down.

I forced him up to the second floor. He gagged and dry heaved into an empty toy box. I scolded him for a good half hour while he calmed down; before we left for the airfield, he told me he'd eaten all the food I set out for him. If he had, I would have seen him throw up oatmeal, some fruit, bread and half-digested bacon. He hadn't eaten a damn thing.

When I showed James the narrow steps to the attic and secret room, he shot up those steps so fast he almost knocked me over.

When I found him in the attic, he was staring at the wall.

I balanced myself on his shoulder, and saw what he was staring at.

Through the dust and the cracked paint and plaster, there was a roughly circular hole in the wall with something vaguely metallic in the center. There was a brown, rusty-colored stain under the grime and dust as well, it started around the gouged hole, went down the wall and stopped about two feet from the floor.

The gouged circle was a bullet hole.

* * *

" _ **I-I am not scared of you!**_ _" She tried to yell in Romanian, only it came out as a whimper._

 _James blinked at the girl, his lips twitching under the partial face mask he wore._

" _ **I have-have li-lived through**_ **Nazis** _ **! I am not scared of**_ **you** _ **!**_ _" She tried to yell again; it came out as a broken whimper._

 _Slowly, James approached the girl. The children on the floor skittered under the bunks and squished to the walls, giving James a wide pathway to the little girl. She didn't move until he was in a few feet of her._

 _His steps were slow and even as James approached the girl. She skittered backwards, tripping on her blanket a few times. She eventually let it fall from her small shoulders, James kicked it away onto some other children._

 _The girl eventually hit the wall of the hidden room, and looked in fear as James approached her slowly. His dead eyed stared down at her, his hair brushed his cheekbones and the metal on his left arm glinted from the light that came through the thin windows behind her._

 _James was less than a foot from the girl when he stopped walking. He reached his left metal hand out and took the little girl's slender wrist. His grip was strong, and hurt her somewhat, but it wouldn't even leave a bruise. She made little noises in pain and frustration as she struggled against his grip on her wrist._

 _She stilled, and the other children stopped breathing when the gun James held in his right hand came up from his side. Using the end of the gun, James pushed the sleeve of the girls nightdress to her elbow. She flinched when the cold metal touched her skin._

 _With her sleeve gone, James could see the identifiable markings on her inner arm._

 **10443Z**

 _James used his gun to pull the girl's sleeve back down, then he let her wrist go. She immediately clutched it to her chest, looking up at the man with wide brown eyes. She was trembling in fear._

 _James heard something behind him. He closed his eyes and turned his head to the side just barely, trying to get a better read._

 _Seeing her chance, the little girl dashed around James' legs in an attempt to escape from between him and the wall._

 _James turned on a heel and fired one shot from his gun._

 _He his his target. He always did._

 _The man in the doorway, the one who'd cocked his gun and gotten James' attention, shuddered back to the wall from the force of the bullet hitting his head; dead center between his eyes. He slid to the floor, leaving a bloody trail down the wall._

 _The children went into varying states of shock._

 _Some of the boys who weren't so young moved other children back._

 _The infants started crying._

 _Some of the girls screamed, and though they'd never admit it, some boys did too._

 _A few children started crying._

" _ **Shut up,**_ _" James huffed to the kids, glaring at them. He crossed the room of children again, stopping to stare at the girl with the the numbers on her arm briefly, and squatted down to examine the man he had just killed. He put his pistol in the holster on his thigh._

 _He was on of the men who was supposed to be his backup; he was supposed to..._

 _James couldn't recall what he was supposed to do._

 _It was something to do with the girl with the numbers on her arm, he knew that;_ _ **she**_ _was his mission. But what he was supposed to do with her after that was unknown to him._

 _A voice crackled on the radio on the dead man's belt. James took the radio and held it to his ear._

 _Russian voices crackled over the frequency, but James couldn't understand them. Frustrated, he slammed the radio to the floor once, then held it to his ear again._

 _James heard one of the children inhale as it to speak. He turned, and saw one little boy, he looked older than the girl, but younger than the oldest children; James pegged the boy at about eleven-years-old._

" _ **You...**_ _" He trailed off, sitting a little straighter. He was one of the children sharing a bed, and had to crane his neck to see over the cowering little children in front of him. "_ _ **It-It must have fallen off the correct frequency when you sh-shot him, sir. You-You need to find the correct channel again.**_ _"_

 _James just blinked. He dropped the radio and reached towards the boy. James reached towards the boy with his metal hand and grabbed onto the thick wool overcoat he had on over his pajamas. He lifted the boy off the bed and hauled him over the other children in the bed._

 _The overcoat the boy had on was a few sizes too big; it had belonged to his older brother. He was 16 now, and had left the orphanage to work in the village. He'd left his coat to his brother._

 _James dropped the kid on the floor, and shoved the crackling radio into his hands. "_ _ **Fix it,**_ _" He said to the boy._

 _With some trembling, cold fingers, the boy, Asen was his name, looked at the little girl in the flannel night dress for guidance. She had wide eyes as she clutched her arm to her chest. She whispered something to Asen in their shared native language. James spun around, and grabbed the girl's arm. He grabbed Asen's as well, and held them in front of him._

" _ **What did she tell you?**_ _" He demanded of the boy._

 _Asen swallowed loudly, hugging the radio to his chest. The girl reached out and gave his hip a squeeze of confidence. "_ _ **She-She told me to do as you say,**_ _" Asen yelped out quickly when James' grip tightened._

 _James pushed the girl back, and stared down at Asen. Taking it as his que to work on the radio, he ducked his blond head to see it better; the light from the bulb was mostly blocked by James' towering form standing over him. A few knob twists, switch flips and antenna twists later, Asen held the radio out to James with a shaking hand._

 _James snatched it out of the boy's hand, then just stared down at him. It was only more menacing to Asen to have a man in all black, with a metal arm and a gun looking down at him when he could only see half his face; the other half was covered by a muzzle made of stiff material. It made his words come out slightly muffled._

 _James blinked down at Asen, and narrowed his eyes slightly. He jerked his head back towards his bunk; Asen dashed towards it and clambered up the side. He was hauled into the bunk by the two other children._

 _The radio crackled to life, and James held it to his ear to hear the Russian voices of his fellow HYDRA men._

" _ **Century Squadron. Report."**_

" _ **Century One, in position."**_

" _ **Century Two, Century Three and Century Five, approaching final position. ETA fifteen seconds."**_

" _ **Century Four, locking sights."**_

" _ **Century Six and Century Seven, ready and in position."**_

" _ **Century Eight, ready at East exit."**_

" _ **Century Ten, awaiting Century Nine for confirmation of package."**_

" _ **Century Ten, report."**_

 _Silence._

" _ **Century Three to Century Squadron Leader. When to we go in?"**_

" _ **When the girl is secured by the soldier."**_

" _ **Century Two to Century Squadron Leader. How do we know that maniac won't kill her?"**_

" _ **He has his orders...He's the best soldier in HYDRA. He's the only success in the program."**_

" _ **Century Ten to Century Squadron Leader. Century Nine was to report back with scouting report seventy-nine seconds ago."**_

" _ **Relax Century Ten. Century Nine was ordered to engage the soldier if he was suspected of harming the girl. He's probably dead now. Century Five, you're scouting in his place."**_

" _ **Century Squadron Leader, remind Century Three why we can't just tranquilizer the girl and grab her now?"**_

" _ **Century Three, don't make me send Century Seven to kill you. You know why we can't tranquilize her. We don't know how she'll react and she's too valuable to the advancement of HYDRA to screw up. Only Reinhardt could find value in a dead subject to dissect, we need her alive...Kill the rest of the children if you need to."**_

 _James threw the radio at the ground, cracking it. Then he slammed his foot down on it, killing the Russian voices coming from it._

 _A few children spoke Russian, and told the others what the men on the radio said._

" _ **They-They want**_ **me** _ **?**_ _" The girl with the numbers tattooed on her arm asked weakly._

 _James nodded._

 _He looked at the children in the secret room; they were all so scared, holding onto one another tightly._

 _James looked at the little girl. "_ _ **You were my mission...I needed to-to find you...I don't have orders for after I found you.**_ _"_

 _He walked to the window, and lifted his pistol; he didn't need a sniper rifle to kill the Century Squadron._

" _ **All of you. Stay in here. Shut up.**_ _" James snapped, walking out of the attic room. He stopped at the light bulb, reached up with a metal hand and crushed the bulb in his fist. James slammed the door shut between him and the children._

 _James knew he would be punished for this. He knew that he'd be punished_ _ **severely**_ _for this, but he didn't care._

 _He couldn't care._

 _There was something in his mind that prevented him from caring about himself._

 _He only cared about the children._

 _James walked into the woods, dropped all his weapons, curled his left hand into a fist, and hit himself in the temple as hard as he could._

 _When he woke up hours later in a HYDRA building, he was already in the chair._

 _Nobody asked him any questions._

 _James took whatever they threw at him (or hit him with)._

 _The mission was declared a failure._

 _At the orphanage, the children were found by an older woman from the village._

 _They cried over the death of the young man with the cane, Daniel. His sister, Emilia, was sobbing and shaking so hard the tattoo on her arm blurred._

 _The tattoo read 10443Z._


	34. Chapter 34: Work vs Hobby

**Happy New Year my cupcakes!**

 **Here's a little nibblit of a chapter to keep you guys until I post next, and I don't really know when that will be; Janruary is gonna be a hectic month for me.**

 **Not much Winter Glow in this one, but there _will_ be some action, and mayb a little Winter Glow, in the next one. **

**Also, I am no expert on nuclear energy. I did some Googleing and looked on Wikipedia, and that's it. So don't judge me on the nuclear energy part of this chapter. I like it and I don't wanna change it.**

 **Again, _HAPPY NEW YEAR!_**

 **~Christianne**

* * *

Omniscient POV

While preparing for the trip to Wakanda, the Avengers slowly realized that they would be taking more people with that they originally thought.

After New York, there was some debate by the public if Kára, or 'Valkyrie,' was an actual Avenger. She was vital in stopping Loki in 2012, but she hadn't been publically saving people like Captain America, Iron Man, Hawkeye, Black Widow, Thor or the Hulk. However the Kára situation was looked at, she was going with the the African nation. She demanded to go with, actually, she forbade the team from leaving without her. Thor was currently trying to wake Kára up, since he was the only one not afraid of the lightning she made when she yelled for ten more minutes.

Tony tried to hate TJ for the dopey, unstylish technical genius that he was, but it was a little harder than he thought it'd be. Iron Man ended up being the one who brought TJ onto the Wakanda mission. He wouldn't be doing any actual fighting, TJ'd be shut up tight in the jet with Bruce while trying to get as much information on Ultron's code as he could.

The team had no objections to Kára fighting alongside of them or with TJ running ops back at the quinjet; it was Ellie that they had a hard time getting on board with. They all had a soft spot for the poetic, doe-eyed mutant, but they all had doubts about her fighting. After some carefully chosen words by Bruce and Steve, Ellie was squirming uncomfortably in the form-fitting tactical gear Natasha tossed her way. Steve, who was leaning on the wall next to her, was constantly reassuring her that she didn't look fat, ridiculous or out of place.

As for Emilia, all it took was a demonstration of her abilities to get all the Avengers to sign off on her helping to stop Ultron. Did they trust Emilia? No, not really. Did they trust Anna? _Hell yes._ If Anna trusted Emilia, they at least owed her a chance. Before Clint and Natasha would let Emilia anywhere near the quinjet, they forced the young adult out of her flowy, patched clothing and put her in some of the tactical gear from Anna's collection; slim-fitting, dark cargo pants tucked into her boots, and a short-sleeved shirt made of the same flexibility, tough material S.H.I.E.L.D. suits were once made of. Per her own personality, the gypsy girl threw her own style into the look with her bracelets and rings, as well as a sheer overshirt that fell past her mid-thigh, had dramatic bat sleeves, and partially closed in the front by a belt that Maria—silently, of course—admired. The matte, artfully crinkled chiffon was a deep violet color that, as well as making Emilia smile, contrasted perfectly with her dark hair and olive skin.

While Emilia was happily playing with the hem on the edge of her sleeve, Kára was sleepily walking into the room. The Valkyrie yawned, ruffled her hair and scanned the room; her hand fell from her head as she saw Ellie.

"I know you," Kára said suddenly.

Ellie looked up from her notebook and furrowed her dainty brows. "Well...Yes, you do," she finally answered. "Anna first introduced us in the early 90s. It was around Christmas, I think."

"No no no," Kára said quickly, waving a dismissive hand Ellie. "No, I know _that_. I know you from somewhere else, somewhere before that. I've never seen you as a Valkyrie before, I know I know you."

Ellie frowned, and slid her gaze to Steve, who gave a small, confused shrug.

"Thor," Kára said suddenly, dropping the bag she was holding to the floor. It made a dull, hollow thud when it landed on the glass. "Thor, you know Ellie from somewhere, right?"

The god frowned slightly. "Yes, Kára. I met Lady Ellonore when the Avengers fought Loki in New York," he explained slowly.

Kára rolled her eyes in frustration. "No, I _know that_. I know where _I_ met Ellie. I know where _you_ met Ellie. I'm saying, don't you know her from _before_ that? From Asgard?"

Thor considered the Valkyrie's words carefully, and intently examined Ellie; her face, how she sat, how she did her hair. Steve stepped in when Thor began to slowly circle Ellie with scrutinizing eyes. "Alright, alright, that's enough," the Captain put in. "She's a person, not a race horse."

Elli sent Steve a look of thanks as her shoulders relaxed and her body untensed. Steve just smiled in return.

"Alright Angels," Tony called from the bay of the quinjet. "Ready for a little roadtrip?"

* * *

When the jet landed in the jungle-like oasis of the dry, flat land portion, sprinkled with beached ships, Kára had to physically hold Emilia back. She was so eager to 'kick some Ultron ass' as Tony so eloquently put, that Emilia accidently shocked Thor to the point that he said 'ouch.'

Despite the warnings of danger from Steve, Emilia was the first one out of the plane. She bounced on her heels, cracking her neck and knuckles as the rest of the passengers, save for Bruce, Ellie and TJ, filed out.

"No! Nononono!" Ellie yelped suddenly, making everyone stop walking and reach for their weapons.

Pushing dark hair out of her eyes, Emilia quickly went to Hawkeye and Black Widow. "You must not walk on _that side_ of the tree!" She insisted in her heavy Eastern European accent, grabbing their wrists to attempt to try to pull them to the other side of the tree that blocked their path.

Black Widow rolled her eyes. "Following the superstitions, huh?"

"Superstitions?" Iron Man's electronic voice asked.

"It's an old Russian warning," Natasha explained vaguely. "A group of more than two people can't walk on the other side of a tree."

" _Yes_ , I _am_ following the superstitions like a child. This is not a time to take chances, yes?"

"This coming from the girl who ran head first towards a murderbot," Clint said dryly.

"There are not any superstitions about _murderbots_ , only trees." Emilia insisted, tugging on their wrists again.

"Just humor her," Steve sighed. "A little good luck would do us good."

"Ah, it is not only good luck, Căpitan," Emilia grinned. "It is good luck from a _gypsy_."

* * *

"I'm glad you asked that," Ultron casually sasses Tony. "Because I'd like to take this time to explain my evil plan."

One of the hands Ultron was gesturing with stretched out, and five orangey-red beams shot out of his fingers. They hit Tony's suit in the chest of his suit. Ultron and Tony fought violently in the air. Sparks flew from metal-on-metal contact. Glass rained down on the fighting heroes and robots below. Kára summoned her own shield to protect herself when glass came down. Then, she decapitated a robot with it.

Black Widow paused for a moment to observe how Emilia did in a real battle scenario.

The gypsy girl was calm as she was approached by one of Ultron's minions; they must not have thought she was worth more than one. Oh, how wrong they were.

Emilia had observed some of the footage found on the Maximoff girl's abilities in action, and deemed her abilities and style very different than her own. Others might disagree, but then again, few people understood.

The Maximoff girl's hands daintily bobbed on her wrists, her fingers curled elegantly as swirls of red, partically light floated through her fingers. When Emilia utilized her own abilities, her hands were held in a slack position; her fingers curled towards her palm slightly, her pinky more than her pointer finger. Her movements were fluid and smooth, moving organically instead of with pure purpose like the Maximoff girl, who acted with nothing but purpose.

With her fingers curled ever-so-slightly, Emilia began moving them through the air, searching for an electric current worth grabbing onto. When one was found, the young woman couldn't hold back a small, devious smile.

One quick hand movement later, Emilia flattened her palm, splayed her fingers and the robot in front of her arched up as massive amounts of electricity passed through it's body.

Emilia raised her other hand, in the same position as the other, and used her real power; many people could summon energy, but only she could transform it. The second raised hand began forcing the blue-white arches of electric current into nuclear energy; it was her personal favorite.

Every tiny little spark turned into splitting atoms, the splitting atoms made new energy, and started to break down the material of the robot. One hand controlled the nuclear energy, and the other hand kept the nuclear energy focused on the robot.

When only the head was left, Emilia spoke softly in her heavy accent. "Do not waste my time by only sending one foot soldier at a time," she said threateningly. Emilia closed her fists, and the light from inside the robot's eyes died. She picked up the hot metal he'd and threw it at another bot that was about to get Steve from behind. With the amount of kinetic energy Emila put behind the head, it forced the arm off the robot, ricocheted off Steve's shield and hit the robot in the head. The hit to the head disoriented the robot enough for Steve to turn and put the bot out of commission permanently.

Black Widow had been watching Emilia for five seconds at most.

The gypsy girl turned to the redhead with a knowing smile. " _I am older than I look, you know. I do not need a babysitter._ "

Smiling at Emilia's flawless, Romanian-accented Russian, Natasha responded " _I don't think you need a babysitter. I was..curious, to see how you worked._ "

Emilia turned to face the four robots coming at her. " _I read tarot cards at carnivals and fairs throughout Europe_ ," she said, readying her hands. " _ **That** is my **work**. **This** is my **hobby**_."

* * *

It wasn't until Emilia was thrown up to the metal platform that circled the ship, about twenty feet above the bottom of the ship, that she saw a flash of blue. It whizzed past her as she peeled her face painfully off the metal floor, and came by again as she prepped herself up on the heels of her hands.

The third time it came by her, Emilia was ready. It did surprise her, though when the blue flash morphed into a young man, who was oddly close to her. This young man had scruff on his chin, and lengthy hair that grew brown at the roots but faded into a bleached white.

He had one knee on the ground, the other foot perched under a bent knee. One of his sturdy-looking forearms was over the raised knee, the other hand was down, his fingers splayed, the tips balancing himself on the floor. Emilia felt the need to lean back, not from fear, but instinct.

"He did not tell us about _you_ ," the young man said. He had a distinct accent that Emilia had heard before; when traveling in the small cluster of countries directly north of Romania.

"Really?" Emilia asked, in her own similar, heavy accent. The familiarity of her voice made the young man raise an eyebrow. "Because I know all about _you_ , Pietro Maximoff."

Pietro was quick to stand, and Emilia was quick to move. She lunged and grasped his leg before Pietro could run. Emilia sucked the kinetic energy out of him, and watched his body sweat heavily from the heat energy that replaced his ability to move.

With her grip on his leg keeping him from running, Emilia reached up and managed to get a grip on Pietro's wrist. After the shock passed, Pietro tried to kick the girl off him, shake out of her grip.

The pair began an interesting struggle. Emilia would lose her grasp on Pietro's kinetic energy, he would start to flash off, Emilia would regain her grasp and they'd stop, they hit and slap each other, and Emilia would lose her grasp on his energy again, and the process started all over. Through the struggling, Emilia ended up with her hands around Pietro's neck from behind. The Sokovian boy fell back to the floor, landing on Emilia, when his balance was messed with. He kicked and grabbed at Emilia's arms, but it didn't do much good.

"Are you going to kill me?" Pietro snarled out. His throat vibrated under Emilia's palms and fingers.

The gypsy girl let out a sigh of relief when Pietro shifted, and there wasn't so much dead weight on her lungs. Emilia moved her head so she spoke directly in Pietro's ear. "I have not decided yet," she whispered honestly. It would be easy to kill him. Her hands were on his throat, so close to the epicenter of electrical activity in the human body; the heart.

Both young adults stopped struggling when a robot threw a large crate was thrown at them. Once it passed over their heads, they once again fought with each other.

"Do you think you are worth it, Maximoff?" Emilia asked, her words not as soft as the first time she spoke; they were frustrated, strained, threatening and harsh. "Do you think you are worth killing?"

"Oh _shut up_ ," Pietro snapped, feeling her fingers tap rhythms on his throat. He knew when he was being taunted and baited, but he also was too angry at this nameless girl to give a shit right now.

There was a high pitched scream that made Pietro turn his head and slow his fighting. "Let me go!" He yelled suddenly, his fighting getting harder for Emilia to control.

"Why?" Emilia snapped back in the same tone; she was still trying to decide if she should kill him or not; she vocalized her thoughts. "You are an amazing creation, synthetic or not...A boy who can run faster than the speed of sound," Emilia praised, resting her chin on Pietro's shoulder. "But you made the decision to be on the wrong side, your sister too...What to do with you Maximoffs? What to do? What to do?"

"Let me go! I need to get to her!" Pietro yelled again, trying to throw his head back to crack it against Emilia's nose.

" _Why?_ " Emilia snapped again.

"Because I need to get to my sister!"

He said the magic words.

Emilia, without even thinking about it, began to compile kinetic energy. She grabbed his shirt and flipped them so Pietro was on his back and Emilia sat on his chest. "I will only do this _once_ , _comrade_ ," she spat down at the boy under her. She flipped off Pietro's chest, shoved him to his feet and let loose all the kinetic energy she had towards him.

He ran to Wanda, unaware that he was going almost twice as fast as he usually ran.

Emilia took a deep as she stood. She was trying to prove that she could actually _help_ the Avengers, and she let Dash-McSpeedy Maximoff get away. Hell, she _helped him_ get away.

Maybe they wouldn't find out.

The Avengers couldn't know _everything_ , right?

* * *

Outside the ship, Pietro hovered worriedly over his sister's shaking shoulders. The arrow the archer slammed to her forehead left marks on Wanda's skin. He attempted to rub one of the darker marks off her skin with his thumb, but when Pietro touched the seared skin, Wanda flinched and whimpered.

"I'll kill him," Pietro said lowly, threateningly, as he stood.

"No...No...Wait," Wanda said through her pained breaths. "I want to finish."

She looked towards the jet in the jungle-covered area with glowing red eyes. "I want _all of them_."

* * *

The quinjet was silent as they flew away from Wakanda.

Bruce was on the floor, wrapped in a blanket. Clint piloted and Tony was repairing his suit; they were the only ones not affected by Wanda's mind tricks this time.

Steve found himself a seat on the floor, staring blankly at an empty seat across from him. Thor placed in an uncomfortably small circle. Kára was in a seat, knees to her chest, blood trickling down her wrist (she planned to heal herself later), head tipped back and eyes closed. She was next to Natasha, who limply sat in the seat Clint put her in.

The episodes brought on by Wanda Maximoff affected most of the team the same way; they were drained. Accept TJ. TJ was speaking quietly and rapidly to himself, and acting like he was on speed; frantically typing on his laptop with shaking hands.

Steve was rubbing his thumb over the binding of the leather notebook in his hands.

One of the reasons everyone was so quiet was because they were one person short.

When TJ came to in the jet, and everyone came back after the Hulk incident, Ellie was gone.

* * *

 _Pietro had his sister a safe distance away from the massive, destructive green man. He was going to life her again and run back to the ship, where Ulton was, but Wanda told him to bring her back to the quinjet._

 _He did what his sister told him to do, and dropped her on her feet once inside the jet. Wanda stepped over TJ's legs and stood over a dark haired girl who didn't look too much older than herself._

 _Wanda's dark eyes glowed red as she looked down; looked into the mind she controlled. A barely there smile spread across her lips. "Ellonore..." She trailed off._

 _Wanda heard Ultron complaining that there was less vibranium than expected. Imagine his metal, synthetic delight if she and Pietro brought him a girl who can create vibranium._

* * *

The heroes filed out of the quinjet; Clint helped Natasha to the storybook-worthy farmhouse. Thor had taken Emilia's bag for her, and was constantly having to nudge the girl; she kept slowing down until she stopped completely. TJ was keeping up with the group, hugging his laptop tightly to his chest, and his face was going more and more worried.

Steve, tucking Ellie's notebook into his belt, felt a slight pang in his heart. This was the kind of farmhouse Bucky talked about; the kind he wanted that fixer-upper he bought to turn into. It had everything, even the red barn and what sounded like chickens and horses. City-mouse or not, Bucky would have loved this place.

"What is this place?" Thor asked, letting Emilia take her bag.

"Safehouse," Tony reasoned, repeating what Clint said earlier.

The archer heard the brief conversation as he pushed the screen door open. "Let's hope."

The heroes filed into the house. When they crossed the threshold, it was impossible to deny the calm, homey aura that washed over them.

"Honey?" Clint called, walking through the cozy living room to peer into the kitchen. "I'm home."

A pretty, very pregnant, brunette woman came into the kitchen. She had a handful of children's art projects, markers, and glitter pens in her hands.

"Hi," Clint said in a familiar, casual tone. He discreetly nodded to the team behind him. "Company...Sorry I didn't call ahead."

The woman only smiled, put down the artwork and embraced Clint, planting a quick, yet meaningful, kiss on the his lips.

"This is an agent of some kind," Tony announced, sounding pretty damn sure to himself.

"Gentlemen—and Kára," Clint tacked on the last part when the Valkyrie cleared her throat. "This is Laura."

Laura gave a polite, wry smile. "I know all your names," she gave a soft laugh at the end. Steve's expression softened, and Tony gave a small, awkward wave.

"Incoming," Clint said lowly, when the sound of feet dashing through the halls of the house started.

Two children, a boy and a younger girl, ran into the living room. Clint expertly swooped down and picked the girl up. "Hi sweetheart!" He said enthusiastically, putting a silly, fatherly kiss to her forehead. With the girl on his hip, he held the boy close, called him buddy, and kissed and mussed his brown hair.

Tony, in his own way, voiced the confusion of the people in the room. "These are... _smaller agents_."

"Did you bring Auntie Nat?" The little girl asked once Clint had her on the ground again.

The girl's voice seemed to bring Natasha back to Earth, well, _closer_ to Earth. "Why don't you hug 'er and find out!" It was said with a foux-suspenseful tone that made the girl grin as she ran to her..

"Sorry for barging in on you," Steve, ever the gentleman, said when the reunion came to a natural lull.

"Yeah, we would have called ahead but we were too busy having no idea you existed," Tony tacked on sarcastically.

"Fury helped set this up when I joined." Clint started to explain, his arm around Laura's shoulders. "Kept it out of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s files. I'd like to keep it that way." His voice was even, and equal parts begging question and flat-out threat. "It'll be a good place to lay low."

While the idea of Clint's secret family sunk in, Clint himself looked around the room and frowned when he came up one female short. "Tony, you seen Emilia?"

The tech genius shrugged. "Thor, you got Esmeralda off the plane, right?"

"I gave her her bag," Thor informed the men. "I am unaware of where she went after."

Clint looked mildly concerned, and Steve stepped in. "She'll turn up. From what Anna said, Emilia's been taking care of herself for a long time. She'll be fine."

"Speaking of the Blue Flare," Tony put in again. "Who's going to tell Blondie Brightman that we lost our resident fortune cookie?"


	35. Chapter 35: Please Don't Make Me

**I think I told you guys that there would be some Winter Glow action in this chapter, but I lied. Sorry.**

 **Exams start on Tuesday and studying is kicking my butt. :(**

 **Oh, I wanted to clear something up. I mentioned a while ago about how I was toying with the idea of Steve and Ellie becoming a couple (I stil haven't decided yet, but they will have a _very_ close friendship if nothing else), and something was brought to my attention in a review. When Ellie was introduced in The Last Valkyrie, she was 18/19-years-old, physically. After Anna gave Ellie Steve's blood, she aged a little. She's still very innocent and young in appearence, but she'd about physically 25-years-old. And since Steve is just under 30, nothing wierd is going on. **

**And I'm toying with the idea of posting some one shots again. They would be about Anna's life after Bucky died, and before _The Avengers_ plot line, and the other side characters I'd mentioned. If I post them, they'll be n _Pieces of Them_. **

**Anybody have a situation/time period they want to see Anna in?**

 **Or do you have any side characters you want to know more about?**

 **Do you have anything about anything you want to say something about?**

 **Enjoy the chapter!**

 **~Christiann**

 **PS~ Reviews would help my exam-beaten moral, and might result in a faster update! Maybe! ;)**

* * *

Omniscient POV

 _God saw me getting tired  
_ _And the cure was not to be.  
_ _So he put his arms  
_ _Around my shoulders  
_ _And whispered  
_ " _Come with me."  
_ _A golden heart stopped beating  
_ _Working hands at rest.  
_ _God broke our hearts  
_ _To prove to us  
_ _He only takes the best._

* * *

Death wasn't anything like Ellie thought it would be.

She expected bright, soft colors and claiming shapes made of clouds. Instead, Ellie was cold, uncomfortable and felt nothing but fear.

"You are not dead."

The feminine, accented voice of Wanda Maximoff made Ellie's eyes snap open; she didn't move other than that. Moving only her eyes, Ellie tried to figure out where she was.

Wanda looked down through the cargo hatch, Ellenore was bound and gagged to a chair bolted to the floor; only her big brown eyes were moving. "You are on a plane," Wanda further explained. "Ultron wants you in South Korea with us."

Slowly, the situation became less disorienting. After that, though, Ellie became so scared so fast the whole situation became disorienting again.

Wanda quirked her head to the side a little when Ellenore began moving rapidly. Her arms, legs and torso were tied tightly to the chair, but from what the Sokovian girl could tell, Ellenore was trying to bring her knees up to her chest, more her arms up somehow and bring her head down to her knees. Her breathing became harsh, and the gag tied around her head became wet with saliva.

Ellie's chaotic thoughts quickly turned to a slur of boring slush, and Wanda didn't want to listen to it anymore. She got up off the floor, and the hatch shut tightly with a wave of her hand. She returned to sit next to her brother on the military-esque seating that surrounded the plane.

Pietro was devouring some of the rations found under his seat. He only stopped when he heard something. "Are you _humming_?"

Rolling her eyes at how amused her brother sounded, Wanda abruptly crossed her arms and stopped the tune that had been leaving her partially parted lips. " _Yes_ ," she said in a clipped tone that Pietro heard many times before; that tone was only used by Wanda when she was both embarrassed, and deeply annoyed that he caught her doing something.

"I do not recognize the song," Pietro commented lowly; he was very curious about the unfamiliar melody, but he didn't want to push Wanda too far.

"It...It is from Ellenore," Wanda admitted, looking at the closed cargo hatch. "Sh is singing in her mind to try to calm herself. It is stuck in my mind."

Pietro nodded slightly, understanding. "Can't you make her sing something else? Or make her not sing at all?"

His sister nodded, still looking down at the cargo hatch. "She is terrified."

Pietro let out a snorting laugh, a slight smirk growing on his face. It quickly turned to a disgusted grimace when the apple in the ration box he had in his lap was more brown than green. "We _did_ make her unconscious...and she woke up tied to a chair on an airplane."

"She is not scared for herself," Wanda answered softly, not even thinking for a moment. "She is scared for _us_."

 _That_ got Pietro's attention away from the stale muffin he was trying to force out of the clear, crackling plastic package. "Why? Is it something the Avengers are planning?"

"No...No, nothing like that," Wanda said, distracted, to calm her brother. "She is scared for...for every person she sees...Ellenore does not want to hurt a soul."

As his sister's voice got softer, and as her accent got heavier in her English, Pietro became more worried. He pushed the rations to the side and took his sister's hands. "Do not let her mind overrule your own."

"I know..." Wanda said dismissively; part of her mind laughed at how concerned Pietro was.

"It is just...I have never seen a mind with so little fear of death...She has an overwhelming love for _everyone_ , and so little for herself," Wanda continued, her brows furrowing. "She would throw herself into the sea if it would mean saving only one soul."

"So why is she with Stark? With the Avengers?" Pietro asked, confused.

Wanda's eyes glowed red as her head tilted to one side, still looking at the closed hatch.

"Somewhere Over the Rainbow," she said.

" _What?_ " Pietro asked, his handsome face screwing up in confusion even more.

"The song she is singing in her mind," Wanda explained, smiling as she let Ellenore's mind open up. The longing in the song was tragic, but the hope was so real that Wanda could almost taste it.

She closed her eyes and leaned back. "It is from an old movie, the Wizard of Oz."

Realizing he wasn't going to get an answer, Pietro went back to struggling to open the packaged muffin.

Wanda began to hum again. Under her breath, she softly sang what she decided were her favorite lines of the song.

" _If happy little blue birds fly beyond the rainbow,_

 _Why, oh, why can't I?"_

* * *

Everyone voted that Steve would be the one to tell Anna what happened. He took the secure sat. phone TJ set up and walked about half a mile away from Clint's house, just in case Anna's swear words escaped the phone.

Laura left soon after Steve, leaving Clint with the rest of the team. She took Lila and Cooper behind the house, leaving them to play with the elaborate play set Clint built for them. Laura herself went to the barn, looking for a bucket to throw pulled weeds in.

"I am in here."

Laura, who'd been looking under a plastic tarp, jumped around with a screech.

Up in the hayloft, in the light of the open window, sat a young brunette woman. The more Laura looked, she saw the young woman wasn't actually in the hayloft; she was perched on one of the sturdy cross beams.

After calming her racing heart, Laura called up to the young woman. "You're Emilia, right? Clint and the captain are pretty worried about you, sweetie."

"I think 'worried' might be. Too strong a word, _Doamnă_ Barton," Emilia sighed in her heavy accent. She laughed slightly. "Hawkeye does not want me to...to do anything that would jeopardize the _aggressively normal_ lives of your children or those in the village not far from here."

Emilia changed her position on the beam; one leg bent on top of it, fingers interlocked over her knee, and her other leg dangled off the beam, swinging in the air of the barn.

"And the căpitan, he means well...But he only cares for m because Anna told him to look after me." Emilia's heavy accent got thicker, and it sounded like she was about to cry, according to Laura's motherly ear.

"You're a part of the team," Laura told the girl in the ceiling. "I heard them talking about you in the house. You're one of them."

"I am a tool they need to achieve the goal of stopping Ultron," Emilia countered easily. "I did not follow orders...and I am fearful of how the Avengers will react when I tell them."

"What did you do?"

Emilia nodded to Laura's question, signaling that she heard her. "I used to have a brother, he looked after me when our parents and community were killed."

Laura's brows furrowed. "Oh...Ok."

"He died."

"Emilia, sweetheart, I'm sorry."

"He died a long time ago...I can not watch a brother and sister in pain..." Emilia trailed off, looking out the window aimlessly. "There is a boy on Ultron's side. He is enhanced with speed that could be—no, _is being_ —used as a weapon for Ultron."

"This boy has a sister?" Laura guessed.

"Yes...She is enhanced as well," Emilia said, distracted. "This boy...He is dangerous."

Laura wasn't sure what to say.

"I had him...I-I could have killed him, ended it there. But I didn't." Emilia continued.

"You-You would have killed him?" Laura found herself asking. This girl looked like she graduated high school only a few short years ago, and she so casually mentioned _killing somebody_.

"Yes...If that was what needed to be done," Emilia shrugged. "I did not do it, and now I do not know if I can face the Avengers."

"I don't think they'll be angry with you for letting someone live," Laura reasoned.

"And I _do_ think they will be angry with me for letting the Maximoff boy live," Emilia countered sassily.

Laura narrowed her eyes, and spotted a blue plastic bucket half-hidden under the tractor. "Fine," she sighed, managing to get the bucket and not tip over from her enlarged belly. "But _you know_ how it's gonna eat you up inside until you tell them." She spoke with. slightly sing-song tone, swinging the bucket as she left the barn.

Emilia hadn't had anybody speak to her in a motherly tone in more than 50 years. It got to her, even though her carefree, life-hardened exterior rolled its eyes. It was only after Laura was out of earshot that Emilia let out an annoyed groan. She threw her sack to the barn floor, and let her overshirt flutter to the ground as well. She hopped, climbed and jumped her way down to the floor after. Emilia slung her backpack over her shoulder, and played with the, not less artfully, wrinkled chiffon in her hands as she left the barn.

Steve was walking back towards the farmhouse, looking as worried as she did when they left Wakanda.

"Căpitan," Emilia called, walking a little faster than she had been.

Steve, recognizing the Romanian translation of his title, looked up; a little worry left his face when he saw the, worse for wear, gypsy girl. "Emilia, where have you been?"

She shrugged, and scuffed the dirt ground. "I-I did something in Wakanda...I do not want the Avengers to disapprove of my actions during battle."

Steve's brow furrowed, and he took a few steps towards the fidgeting girl in front of him. It was easy to see how distressed and nervous she was.

"C'mon...Let's talk about it with the team," Steve said, gesturing to the farmhouse.

* * *

Steve Rogers was sitting on the back porch, reading by the light given off by the string of Christmas lights that still hung on the railing. He slowly turned the acid free pages, his eyes carefully tracing over the elegant script that decorated them.

"Would Ellie be alright with you reading her poetry?"

"Yeah," Steve answered Kára without his eyes leaving the page. "She said I could read her work any time I wanted to."

The Valkyrie sat down next to the super soldier and peered over his shoulder, which was straining against a borrowed hoodie that could hardly contain the thick muscle.

"Look at this one," Steve said, holding the leather bound notebook open. "It's not really a poem, but...but it is."

He paused, then began to read from the notebook, even though Kára could read it on her own.

" _And then, before I knew it, the Ghost named Happiness came back; she arrived with another Ghost named Contentment who carried a baby named Euphoria, and I think I never want them to leave me in this desolate place._ "

When he was done reading, Steve looked towards Kára. She was turned slightly towards him, leaning on the railings with a knowing, mischievous little smirk on her face. The soldier rolled her eyes. " _What?_ "

"You know _what_ ," Kára shot back playfully, laughing. "It's nice to see you all _smitten_ , Captain **Rogers** ," she continued, emphasizing the last three words differently, while still using a professional tone. The language she used Steve hadn't heard her since 1945.

"You sound like Tony," Steve sighed, going back to paging through the notebook. "Ella and I are friends and nothing more—and I don't think anybody has been _smitten_ since the 1950s."

"You're not wrong, but you are _so_ smitten with _Ells_." Kára teased, emphasizing Steve's nickname for Ellie.

The Valkyrie got a slightly exasperated, annoyed look dusted with embarrassment. "Oh _c'mon_ Steve!" Kára joked, lightly shoving Steve's shoulder. Well, lightly for _them_ ;the force behind Kára's open palm put on Steve's strong upper arm was enough to put a hole in a concrete wall. "Ellie's cute. You could do worse."

"We're just friends Kára," Steve sighed again, examining the notebook more intently. His thumb traced over the drawing of a rose in the corner of a page. The Rose had nothing to do with the poem it sat under.

" _Really?_ " Kára asked with dramatic skepticism. "Then why does your heart rate go up when I describe her?"

"It doesn't," he answered smoothly.

"Have you ever noticed how brown Ellie's eyes are?" Kára started to rattle off, ignoring Steve as she laned back on the steps. "They're a sorta chocolaty brown, but there are rings and flecks of Amber and gold in there when the light hits them just right."

Steve turned and just blinked at Kára, who grinned in return. "You're heart rate went up by 0.08%."

"Yeah, I'm _sure_ it had to do with you describing _eyes_ ," Steve responded dryly.

"Well if you're not smitten or think she's kinda pretty, then why do you hang around her so much? I mean, she's a grade-A sweetheart, but you've _got to_ have better things to do than listen to how a mutant describes the color red without actually _using_ the color red." Kára reasoned.

Steve closed the notebook, holding it in one hand, with a finger holding his page. "First of all, hearing how she described red was _interesting_."

"Is there a 'second of all'?" Kára asked, raising a brow.

"Yes, there is," Steve shot back in a way that was borderline sassy. "I...I like Ellie's company. I like her personality...It reminds me of... _before_."

 _That_ , Kára was not expecting. "Before...You mean, like, before the war?"

Steve nodded a little, looking out at the dimming evening sky. "Don't get me wrong," he added quickly. "It's nice how ladies are now. More... _everything_ -" he paused. "You know, she _blushes_ when I give her a compliment? Other girls, modern girls, turn their noses up and say 'I know' or think my intentions are...less than chilerus."

He just shrugged and looked at Kára. "She's just a nice person."

"Yeah, a nice person that really shitty things have happened to," the blonde woman sighed.

"Another reason we need to find her as soon as we can. She'd never forgive herself if she hurt innocent people," Steve said, grunting slightly at the end as he stood from the steps, still holding the notebook. Sitting in the same place for a long time made his muscles stiff, and he stretched briefly before Kára jumped up to stand next to him.

Once Steve was inside the house, and the door shut behind him, Kára looked up at the sky. "Ya know, if you gals with the looms up there could tangle the captain's and Ellie's threads, it wouldn't be the worst thing," she said, speaking to the Fates. "Plus, I'd win fifty bucks off Mria if they hook up."

* * *

Ellie had worried herself into unconsciousness, making it easy for her to be moved out of the plane and into the small, stone room in a warehouse just outside of Seoul.

Her unconscious mind brought up dream-like images of what she saw after her eyes caught a glimpse of dark hair and red. It was hazy; hard to decipher. Ellie tried to stay away from using the deep, meditation and self-searching techniques that the monks in Nepal taught her, but her curiosity got the best of her. She looked deep inside herself, relaxed, and let her consciousness shift to bright, intense images that usually scared her.

Ellie wasn't scared this time.

 _There was a very old, large man. The man's face had minimal wrinkles, but it had a very long bear that made him seem so aged. It was wirey and stiff, like facial hair tended to be, and the gray that made up a majority of the beard was streaked with white. His hair was the same gray/white combination, and was just as wirey and thick. It hung past his shoulders, and had beaded braids here and there. One larger braid was on the left side of his face, composed of hair from the top of his head all around, giving him a sharp part on the right side of his head, and an odd, fantasy-esque combover._

 _Ellie saw him in a scorched forest, ash floating in the air caught in his beard and braids. She was standing by a charred stump, while the bearded man sat higher on the rocks, untouched by the fire that must have swept through. Ellie watched in awe as the man put a large, golden harp on his knee, and began plucking the strings with the utmost delicacy with his thick, calloused fingers. The music that came from the harp was beyond indescribable. He said nothing, eyes remaining on the strands of the harp, and Ellie began to watch the forest around her._

 _Green grass began to push through the blackened crust that had become the ground. The bright, fresh green was a breath of life to the scorched land. The ashy trees sprouted green buds that flourished under the muted sun into full leaves. Gorgeous flowers sprouted through the grass; their colorful petals added color to the black and green forest. The black, dead skin broke off the trees and crumbled in the grass, revealing rich, brown bark._

 _Animals began to return. They were so close to normal woodland creatures, but had slight changes. Fluffy white rabbits hopped about from branch to branch, nibbling on leaves. Squirrels had their fluffy tails held high, the sunlight making the obnoxious purple shine. A mother red fox slithered around the underbrush, followed by her pups. Now and then she would stop, allowing one of her pups to detangle their small, sharp antlers from the brush, while her own remained free and exposed. She smiled as metallic, jewel-toned butterflies crawled from their holes in the trees, and stretched their wings. Ellie felt like Snow White; while the mother fox laid in the shade of a tree, her pups scurried to her, running around her ankles, chewing and pulling on her shoelaces, and getting their sharp antlers caught in the Lycra-blend of her tactical pants. One of the butterflies began to flutter around her head. She held out a finger, and smiled softly when it landed on the back of her hand. The soft puffs of a it that came from its moving wings tickled down her palm, and Ellie smiled bigger._

 _The man looked away from the harp strings, and looked directly at Ellie. The song he was playing changed into a much more entrancing tune. With a yip from their mamma, the pups left Ellie's feet and hid with her in the brush. The butterfly took off quickly. The man's eyes were the most expressive orbs that Ellie had ever seen, and the intense gaze made her knees buckle. She gratefully sat on the half-charred stump behind her. She had just begun to decipher the layers of emotion to his eyes when she became truly, utterly terrified._

 _The tree stump she sat on began to grow. The wood first enveloped her legs, preventing them from running away; it was then that she began screaming. Her arms were raised up as the trees grew up her sides and back, pulling her arms into bark-encased branches. The man with the harp continued to play, seemingly unshaded by a girl becoming a tree. It was only seconds later that Ellie's face was covered, and she was no longer able to breathe._

 _It felt like her lungs were ripped from her body, cutting off her air supply completely._

 _Ellie was falling through nothing._

 _It wasn't a dark nothing, rather a binding nothing, full of only harsh, burning light._

 _While Ellie tumbled through the nothing, still unable to breathe, she began to feel herself being taken apart. Her method of destroying people was to pick them apart at the smallest level; go down to the atoms, break apart the molecular bonds that held a person together. Once the molecules were broken free, they would disappear into the atmosphere. Sometimes, if she had the ability to, she would destroy the very atoms that the dissolved matter was made of. That's what happening to Ellie as she fell._

 _It started with her fingers and toes; when they were gone, her palms and heels ere next. Then her arms and legs disappeared. It was as her cheeks and chin were tickled with disintegration that Ellie suddenly found breath. She screamed until there was no longer a mouth to scream from._

Ellie regained consciousness slowly, and more calmly than on the plane.

A woman was humming; that's what first registered to frazzled mind. She opened her eyes, and through curdle made cell bars, Ellie saw Wanda Maximoff.

"I like the song you sing in your head," the dark haired young woman, the one not bound and gagged to a chair, sighed. The two girls met eyes. Knowing Wanda's ability to see into people's thoughts, Ellie genitive you thought _Thank you...It is from_ _ **The Wizard of Oz**_. Wanda smiled a little, tipping her chin up to indicate that she got Ellie's message.

Wanda stood, and yelled in a language Ellie didn't understand. A blue blur of light appeared, and morphed into a boy just as quickly as he appeared; Pietro Maximoff, Wanda's brother. He was her age, with them being twins and all, and had very pale hair. They conversed in their native tongue, then Wanda left. She was hungry, so it was Pietro's turn to watch their prisoner.

Pietro leaned on Ellie's cell, his arms hanging though the bars, and sighed.

"You are not going to make the vibranium." This was a statement, not a question.

Realizing he was expecting an answer, Ellie hesitantly shook her head.

"And, you know that if you do not make the vibranium, you will be killed alongside the Avengers," Pietro pointed out.

Ellie nodded again, only more slowly and scared this time.

Pietro clasped his hands inside the cell, leaning more heavily on his shoulders, pressed to the bars, and examined the girl bound to the chair. Her hair was the same color as Wanda's.

"Maybe my sister will have one of the Avengers kill you," he mussed. He knew he was being cruel to the girl, but she was the enemy. "Who are you closest to, hm?"

Ellie let out a soft whimper through the harsh material her gag was made from, and visibly moved her gaze from Pietro to something behind him.

"The archer? _Stark?_ " Pietro hissed at her.

Ellie wasn't paying him any mind, or, she was _trying_ not to pay him any mind. Curious, Pietro followed his gaze and saw what she did. There were bottles of water on the ground, wrapped in plastic. They were ice cold, going by how the plastic beaded up with condensation.

"You are thirsty?" Pietro guessed.

Ellie snapped her head back to the enhanced young man, and nodded, eyes wide, eagerly.

Pietro had already determined that Ellie and Wanda had similar features, like their dark hair and small statues, but Ellie never looked more like his sister than when her eyes were wide and pleading. Wanda used to widen her brown eyes in the same manner while negotiating the prices of a loaf of bread when they were younger.

He slowly went to the wrapped crates of water bottles, and pulled one from the plastic. As he walked back to the cell Ellie was locked in, Pietro hesitated; Ultron and Wanda stressed how dangerous Ellie was; they spoke about how dangerous this meek, tiny, cowering woman was.

Pietro entered Ellie's cell, and looked down at her bound, gagged body in the chair.

"You want this?" He asked lightly in his Eastern European accent, shaking the water bottle slightly. Ellie nodded.

"I remove this," he gently tugged on the knot at the back of her head that held the gag in place. "To give you this," Pietro shook the bottle again. "You do not say anything, yes?"

Ellie's brows furrowed, making it clear to Pietro that she didn't like the idea.

"Fine, you may talk, but I will not listen, and you will not scream," Pietro reasoned, frustrated by the girl in the chair.

Ellie, accepting the rules, nodded.

Pietro cracked the seal of the water bottle, throwing the cap to the floor. He loosened the knot on Ellie's gag, and helped her maneuver it from her mouth. He held the bottle to Ellie's lips and she drank from it greedily. Pietro kept waiting for her to lean back from the bottle, signaling that she was done. Ellie drained the bottle. Faster than she could blink, Pietro went to get a second water bottle, and held it to her mouth like the first. Ellie drank about half before she leaned back slightly.

"How fast can you run?" Ellie asked the moment the bottle was off her lips. She licked water from her lips as more went down her chin.

Pietro, who had been raising the bottle to his own mouth, glanced down oddly at Ellie. He knew he told her he was not going to listen to her, but the question was innocent enough. "Very." He answered, taking a drink of the water. "Very fast."

He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, furrowed his brow, and looked down at her properly. "Why?"

"Get your sister and run as fast as you can from here," Ellie said in a pleading manner. "Get yourselves as far from here as you can."

Pietro narrowed his eyes. " _Why?_ " He asked again.

"I-I'm not staying here, in this place," Ellie further explained. "Ultron is... _bad_. I nee- _I need to leave_. You and Wanda are the only people in here, right?"

Somehow,, Pietro believed her. He trusted her just enough to believe she wasn't lying to him. He nodded, confirming him and his sister were the only humans in the warehouse.

"Ultron is a robot, he-he's not alive...not really," Ellie said, her voice wavering. "Please please please _please_ don't make me kill you and Wanda. Don't make me do it don't make me do it don't make me do it— _please_ don't make me kill you." She choked up in tears, mumbling out wet pleas as tears dripped out of her eyes, falling down her already red cheeks; the gag was too harsh for her soft skin.

This young woman's pleading was so drastically different than what Pietro experienced in Wakanda, with the unknown girl asking if he was worth killing.

"I...I will get my sister," Pietro said very slowly.

"How long do you need?" Ellie asked, getting only a shrug from the Sokovian. "25 seconds...Can you find Wanda and get far away from here in 25 seconds?"

Pietro nodded, and finally addressed Ellie as he was about to leave her cell.

"Ellenore-"

"Ellie," she cut him off. She didn't mean to; it was a reflex. She didn't look up at him, she was trying to figure out how she was going to get out of this without killing everyone in the counrty.

"... _Ellie_ ," Pietro started speaking again, deciding that 'Ellie' was a much better fit than 'Ellenore.'

"You...Ellie, you are not so bad," he chuckled wryly, cracking his neck. She looked up at him, surprised. "Why do you work with those murderers?"

"You may think they are murderers, but they are the only people to ever accept me," Ellie said softly, her voice still thick from weeping. "They are the only people I have in this world, and although I'm indifferent to death myself, I couldn't put them through my death."

Pietro only blinked, then ran.

The first split second comprised of him getting a knife from a table, going back to Ellie's cell and cutting the ropes that held her legs and arms to the metal chair. He dropped the knife to the ground and gave her a smirk. "Good luck, _Мышка_ ," he said, nodding towards her slightly. "If we meet again, I will try not to kill you."

With that, Pietro Maximoff was gone. He'd counted to seven by the time he found Wanda. He didn't say a word; despite her protests, he scooped her up and _ran_.

The moment he mentally counted to 25, a blast shook the ground. It threw both Maximoff twins, knocking them unconcious.

* * *

"Uh...Guys?" TJ called from his place on Clint's living room sofa. "I'm pretty sure Ellie's in South Korea."

The heroes, plus Nick Fury, we're currently in the kitchen, and went to the tech. "What makes you so sure she's there?" Clint asked, putting his palms on the back of the sofa and leaning forward on them, looking over TJ's shoulder to the laptop in his lap.

"Well, do you know anybody else who could make a 200 foot diameter, 75 foot deep crater 20 miles from Seoul, and not cause a single casualty or make any shrapnel and debris?" TJ asked, looking over his shoulder at Clint, who shrugged.

"We're going to South Korea, aren't we?" Kára asked flatly, getting a look of confirmation from Steve.

The Valkyrie scowled, and shoved her hands in the pockets of the sweater Laura leant her as she made her way to the stairs; it was her turn for a shower. " _Great_ , more airplanes...Just what a chick with _wings_ needs."

"You could always fly there yourself," Bruce reminded her.

"It's take me a few minutes to travel to the other side of the world. What am I supposed to do for the _hours_ it takes the rest of you?" Kára huffed, accenting the staircase.

"Maybe I should pick up a book of crosswords...Sudoku, maybe..."


	36. Chapter 36: Cabbages

**Hello my darlin' cupcakes!**

 **This is a little on the short side, but there is (finally) some Winter Glow action! I already started writing the next chapter, and it's emotional. I mean, I wrote so many Winter Glow feels in what I have done of that chapter I made myself in dire need of ice cream.**

 **Well, enjoy the chapter! If I get ten or more reviews by Saturday night, I'll post the next chapter Sunday morning. If that doesn't happen, it'll be up by next Wednesday.**

 **I love you to crumbs, cupcakes!**

 **~Christianne**

 **PS~ There are some snipits of what's to come at the end of this chapter!**

* * *

Anna POV

I shivered as a strong wind blew a cold draft through the disgusting hotel room we were holed up in. After James' little episode at the orphanage, he wanted to go back to Sokovia. Per his usual not-talking-about-his-decision-making, he kept his mouth shut the whole train ride back; I assumed it was the closest of only a handful of places we know was HYDRA free. I asked a few times, just to see if he'd have a change of heart on keeping quiet, but he didn't.

"So, what's the plan, baby-cakes?" I asked, turning my head over my shoulder, while my body stayed close to the radiator. "Wanna snag some hard hats or Red Cross smocks and help the townspeople?"

James, from his place by the window, only grunted in response. Since we arrived at the dinky hotel less than 72 hours ago, Jimmy had busied himself by disassembling and assembling a long-range high-caliber rifle we snagged during a layover in New Zealand. I had to pry both hands from it to get him to eat something now and then.

"Why'd you come back here is all you're gonna do is put together and take apart your gun over and over? You could've done than in India or Thailand," I pointed out, rubbing my hands up and down my upper arms quickly, hoping to bring in a little heat by friction.

"That robot is close," he finally answered.

" _You know_ that we don't have the firepower needed to take him on ourselves," I sighed, falling to sit on the matted carpet. "Ultron would rip us to shreds.

"He's not touching you."

I raised my eyebrows at him and couldn't hold in a small laugh and smile. "Oh really now?" I asked, pushing myself to my feet. Sluggish from the cold, I got to my feet slowly and trudged over to James. I fell back to the floor with a huff. My eyes fell shut as I eased my back onto his. He stiffened, just like every other time I touched him. With my back pressed to his, I was enveloped with warmth; one thing I was _very_ glad HYDRA didn't change was the way he radiated warmth.

"We can't fight Ultron, so why are we here?" I sighed, lolling my head back to rest on James' shoulder as I spoke.

"I know," James admitted. I could feel the muscles of his flesh shoulder work and pull under his skin and shirt. "But...But there are people here."

"Yes...Yes, there _are_ in fact people here in this _city_." My half-assed attempt at lighty patronizing humor earned me a grunt from the Russian-trained man behind me.

"There are people-... _innocent_ people here...The Avengers will be back, but whose gonna watch them until then?"

"You can't babysit the whole city, James...Not everyone can be saved from danger that may or may not come."

"I know," James answered me casually. "But I can try."

I paused, taking in his words and choosing mine carefully. "Try to do _what_ , baby?"

"Try to save them...All of them...I want to try to be the one to save everyone...Start makin' up for the lives I took."

* * *

Omniscient POV

It said in TJ's S.H.I.E.L.D. File that he wasn't recommended for field work; if it was necessary for him to do any, he was required to have an agent with advanced protective combat training to escort him. TJ wasn't a stranger to the rules and regulations that came with being the greatest legacy failures in the history of S.H.I.E.L.D. He was, however, not used to having a high-powered plasma stun-gun (something he actually made for Natasha or Steve, using a plasma cutter from his toolkit and some wire and pipe cleaners found in Clint's basement; Lila helped him decorate it with glittery purple duct tape) shoved into his hands, protective Kevlar-mesh clothing thrown at his face and told to clear a whole building by himself. Oh, and not to mention he was supposed to work with Dr. Banner as both a scientist _and_ keep him from turning green.

"Have you done this before?" Bruce asked TJ, who kept wiping sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand.

"Uh, yes and no," TJ answered, running a fingerless-glove clad hand through his sweaty hair, giving a rare, clear view of his forehead. Usually hidden under a shaggy fringe of hair, Bruce was surprised to see the lines that creased the pale skin revealed. Natasha was right; TJ never stopped worrying.

"How is 'uh, yes and no' an answer, exactly?" Bruce questioned.

"I've logged a-a _very_ considerable number of hours on a simulator...Most hours and the best scores in my class at the academy and-and later in my decision at the Hub," TJ explained, a hint of nervous pride in his voice.

"But...?" Dr. Banner trailed off, raising his brows.

TJ glanced fleetingly at Bruce, then to the crude, glittery, yellow and orange pipe cleaner striped, powerful weapon in his hand. "I...I've never been in the field long enough to ever clear a whole building...On my own or with a team."

The doctor nodded. In truth, he felt a little bad for TJ, like Steve did. They saw how hard he worked, how dedicated he was, _and_ how S.H.I.E.L.D. ex-agents, like Barton, Natasha and Maria for example, took him less than seriously. TJ's career advancement in S.H.I.E.L.D. was stunted because his family had a _James Bond_ worthy history of 'shoot first, ask questions later' behavior. Suave, charming smiles and knockout punches that the willowy, boyish-faced tech couldn't live up to. No one let him forget about it either.

The earpiece TJ and Banner had on patched them though to both the team and J.A.R.V.I.S. The small lense on TJ's vest ave the AI something to scan.

When the accented, electronic voice told TJ and Bruce that the only survivors of the gruesome lab massacre were on the top floor, so that's where they were going. The elevator door had barely opened when TJ put his makeshift plasma-Ray up. Bruce couldn't say he wasn't impressed by the way Tactical-TJ worked. He'd been around a handful of skilled agents, more than he would have liked, honestly. Most wore heavy body armor that looked constricting, in case they got into a physical fight, and moved like robots; heads forward only, gun up, shot what moved and breathed evenly. TJ had a much more relaxed, slow stance and thinner protective wear (which he designed himself). He stepped carefully over broken glass instead of stomping through it, and slowly opened up doors rather than kicking them in.

"I think we're good here, Dr. Banner," TJ said, and Bruce immediately left the small, shiny white elevator for the damaged lab space.

TJ suddenly dashed to the other side of the lab and skidded to a stop on his knees. He slid on the polished floor longer than he thought he would, and had to throw a hand out to stop himself against a cabinet. The loud, metal _Bang! Crash!_ of TJ's body against the cabinet got Dr. Banner's attention. It also made a feminine, pain-filled cough come from the ground.

"Helen? Hey, Helen! Can you hear me?" TJ asked, dropping his plasma-weapon to the ground so both his hands were free; one grasped the twitching hand at Helen Cho's side, and the other worked on straightening her neck and taking her pulse.

"Yes...I can hear you," Helen answered in a slurred sigh.

"What happened?" TJ asked, helping the doctor lay flat on the cold floor, opposed to being slouched against the wall. The blackened, bloody circle that covered most of the right side of Helen's chest made TJ be extra careful, and it made him a little sick too; she smelt like burning flesh.

"Ul-Ultron," she told him weakly, her eyelids low.

"We need to get all the data and code from the system," TJ said, in what had to be the most authoritative voice Bruce had ever heard from him. "And we need to get Helen some help," he added, squeezing Helen's hand when her grip weakened.

"I'll try to contact the medical-"

"No," TJ cut Bruce off, digging through his vest. "You get the code from the system."

"I don't speak Korean, TJ," Bruce reminded him.

"Yeah, and all my great-granddad only use taught me were the swear words h picked up during his six-month stint in Seoul in '52," TJ answered him smoothly. He pulled a square from his vest; the plastic was clear, exposing the _beautifully_ simplistic circuited board, artfully braided wires, and a shiny end jutted out from one side, where is would plug into a computer. "Use this. Two windows will pop up. One initiates the download, the other makes a second copy in English."

"You do this, TJ," Bruce insisted. He wasn't a real people-doctor, really, but the way Helen's face was drained from it's healthy glow concerned him. "I'll get help for Helen."

"You do the computers, Dr. Banner," TJ insisted firmly, pulling a small black object from his vest. It was about the size of those cheap, thick paperback novels you can buy at airports. Turned out, it was a tiny computer. With one hand, TJ opened it up and began typing. While plugging in a corded headset, he looked up at Bruce.

"Is-Is something wrong?" TJ's question was innocent and full of worry.

Bruce shook his head and went to the massive computer system.

TJ put the headset on, the card dangling from his ear.

"You're gonna be fine, Helen," TJ said in a surprisingly calm voice. He rapidly typed with one hand, glancing between the screen and the young, wounded woman in front of him. Though he was too shy to admit it to anybody, TJ'd had a little crush on the brilliant Korean scientist since he met her a few months ago. After he saved her a few days ago at Avengers Tower, his little crush had turned into a full-blown infatuation; when she kissed his cheek in thanks, his heart nearly stopped.

Through heavily lidded eyes, Helen watched TJ put a hand to the earbud in his ear, the one with the cord. "Hello? Can you understand me?" TJ asked, watching as his sophisticated translation program ran the the small computer. He grinned as Korean words spoken by the emergency services responder were flipped into an electronic sounding English.

"Listen to me," TJ said, yanking off one glove to read the sweat-smeared writing that covered the back of his hand, Palm, and down his wrist. "I-I don't have much time to explain. There is going to be a disaster here in Seoul. I assume you already have my location. That will be the center of it all. Stop all public transportation into the city. Set up medical assistance and evacuation busses in a five mile radius from this building. I mean no disrespect, but stand down within Seoul. The fight that will take place will only cause more damage and casualties with more people involved. Do you understand?"

The sound of rapidly tapping keys came through the line. "Yes," the translation program responded.

"You believe me?" TJ blurted out. It wasn't part of the script Clint and Natasha scrawled onto his arms, but he couldn't help himself.

The Korean spoken by the emergency responder was faintly heard under the simulated, translated voice. "My brother was visiting New York in 2012. If you say a fight is going to happen, I am not taking any chances. I _do not_ want my home destroyed like yours."

TJ would've laughed if Helen's eyes hadn't fallen shut. He put a hand on her cheek, took her pulse, then shook her gently. Her dark eyes opened again, but they were unfocused.

"Send your closest ambulance to my location," TJ said to the responder. "I-I have a woman with extensive... _Christ_ , I don't know _what_ it is, but it looks like she was burned with a laser, it's bleeding like a bullet wound, and it looks like she was hit by some sort of bio-agent too."

"Oh my God..." Bruce said from the computer system. TJ looked over and saw lines and lines of red code roll across the screen.

" _Ultron_ ," TJ breathed. Being the computer nerd he was, TJ felt like he was meeting the murderbot himself for the first time as his code was exposed. "Dr. Banner, what the _hell_ was he trying to _do_?"

"These...These are memories," Bruce concluded vaguely.

"C-Cradle," Helen rasped weakly.

"What?" TJ asked; he was distracted. His usually laser-focus was split between Dr. Banner, Ultron's code, Helen, and the small computer.

"Ultron," Helen breathed tiredly. "He took the Cradle."

With wide, half-panicked eyes, TJ looked at Bruce, who had a similar expression. "An-Any idea why Ultron wound need vibranium and something that creates person parts?" TJ asked nervously.

Bruce, hearing a shrine outside, yanked the drive from the computer. "Not for anything good."

* * *

Ellie wasn't entirely sure how she ended up under a highway overpass in the middle of Seoul, but that's where she was.

The ropes that blunder her to the chair in the wear house had been against her bare skin. The rough weave cut the paper thin, raised scars on Ellie's wrists, making them bleed. She'd been so good about _not_ using pain to access the vast power she held in, just below the surface.

As the Maximoff boy ran off, Ellie held her breath. 25 seconds of no oxygen burned her semi-asthmatic lungs. Black dots had begun to color her field of vision. When she exhaled on the final count, she'd never experienced anything like it; she'd lost control plenty of times before, killed dozens of people, but in all her memories, Ellie never lost control to the point of feeling _good_. Ellie didn't hold back; she chafed her wrists against each other and the remaining rope, opening up decades of old scars, and remembered all the different people that told her _she_ was in control, not her mutation. The power she choked down every day built up as she held her breath. In a gasp-like exhale she let out, it all happened. The crater was formed in less than a second. The material that sat inside the crater was vaporized into nothing. The very atoms and cells that made up each particle of dust a tangible thing was destroyed; it no longer existed in any form.

Ellie sat in the dirt under the highway, hands gripping her head and knees tucked to her chest. She wasn't shaking, or tremor int like she had in the past after using her mutation. Ellie was still on the ground, her breathing even and slow.

About four miles away, Captain America as running. On the small watch screen on his wrist, a purple dot, remaining in the same place, blinked steadily, while a quickly moving red dot approached it. The red dot represented Steve running through the crowded streets, weaving through the vendors and people on his way to the purple dot; Ellie. As much as he wanted to put his shield up and barrel through the people, stands and buildings, he didn't. Natasha told him he couldn't, on Anna's orders. So, he was running at half-speed, or less even, towards the location the tracking software woven into the tactical cloths said she was.

Steve only ran into three cars as he wove through the small overpass. He stopped dead center on the overpass, frowning. According to the software, Ellie and Steve should've been right on top of one another. Captain America, ever the quick thinker, went to the side of the overpass. After throwing his shield onto his back, the Avenger grabbed the rail over the on rate ledge, and swung himself over the edge. The Captain landed easily on the dirt ground fifty or so feet below. After looking around briefly, he made a beeline for the curled up young woman in the shadow of the overpass.

"Hey...Hey Ells," Steve said softly, crouching down to examine her for injuries. There was some blood and dirt on her wrists and ankles; she'd been tied up. "Ellie? Ells, can you hear me?"

Ellie let out a shaky exhale, and Steve took that as her response. He reached for her shoulder with an open hand, thinking he was going to have to pry her arms and knees away from her chest to see if she was hurt, like on the helicarrier. Ellie's shoulder tensed under Steve's gloved hand. He squeezed gently, trying to get her to relax, his other hand took her wrist. Not wanting to hurt her, Steve barely pulled it, only it didn't do a damn thing. When he pulled a little harder, he realized he may as well be pulling a statue.

Captain America plopped down into the dirt next to Ellie, and took a moment to think. He considered just picking her up and carrying her to the quinjet, but a few weeks ago, she'd gotten this way during training. Thor picked her up to take her to her room, and Ellie let loose _something_ that sent the god flying backwards and destroyed the training room.

Finally coming up with a possible way to calm Ellie down, Steve scooted closer to the curled up mutant. He put his arm around her still, small shoulders, tilting her towards his torso. Steve brought a hand to his earpiece and pressed a button on it; it blocked his voice from the others, but still allowed him to hear them.

He cleared his throat, and hesitated for a moment, wracking his brain to remember the beginning of the words to the song from a movie he saw a long time ago; even back during the war, it had been a long time since he'd seen the movie.

" _Somewhere, over the rainbow_

 _Way up high_ ," Steve's voice was nothing special, but it was nice enough. " _There's a land that I heard of once, in a lullaby._ "

* * *

Emilia had never been more happy to see cabbage.

She'd ran to a stand as fast as she could and slid to a stop behind the abandoned crates of, now ruined, cabbage crates. She grabbed at her head as she tried desperately to calm down.

She was no stranger to war; Emilia had been born into war, and developed her powers in one. The region in Eastern Europe Emilia called home was plagued with bloody battles that never seemed to end. But Ultron was different. He was a machine; blasts of electricity large enough to kill a human were batten away by metal hands. Nuclear energy could do damage, and while it was her favorite energy to manipulate, it drained Emilia more than kinetic or electric.

Fighting had been all she did for the better part of 40 years, in one form or another. She'd killed her fair share of men (and women); so much so, that by the late 1980s, Emilia was desperately clinging to her gypsy heritage so she wouldn't become a soldier, something she vowed _never_ to be.

Gasping the medals around her neck, Emilia did something she hadn't done in a long time; since she was still at the orphanage in Romania and her brother was still with her.

Emilia prayed.

She bowed her head, clasped her hands like her _dya_ taught her to as a child and _prayed_. Emilia prayed to whatever god was listening (she would accept one of the pagan one at this point) to spare her. Emilia begged to allow her soul to remain on Earth, but not for her own selfish reasons. Truth be told, Heaven sounded magnificent to her; anything that would return her to her family wasn't something she was taught to fear.

Emilia as begging for her life because she wanted to make Anna proud.

In recent years, Anna had expressed her disapproval for Emilia's lifestyle. After the orphanage closed in the spring of 1972, Emilia bounced around Europe and Southern Asia for a few years before settling with a fantastical nomadic group. Most were of Roma heritage like her, others were just people who didn't fit in with the rest of the world. Anna visited only once; she saw more than twenty people using all kinds of mutations, and at least eight people practicing what looked like witchcraft in the first hour. Drugs weren't common in the beautifully eccentric camps, but they weren't exactly shunned either; one in three people had either a bong made of hand-worked crystal or a punch of Magic Mushrooms. Emilia's hardened, uncaring persona was rattled by the disapproval, not that it showed.

The nomadic troupe, 'her people,' had been her family for more than twenty years, and some disapproval wasn't _near_ enough to make her change anything. But, Anna had been Emilia's only family after her brother was killed; she loved Anna like a sister. It was clear Anna would be in Emilia's life until one of them died, so the gypsy girl wanted to do something to redeem herself in Anna's eyes.

What better way than trying to save the world? With the _Avengers_ , no less.

At that moment, when a large piece of debris hit the vegetable stand, sending broken cabbages over Emilia, she only had one thought; _Anything would be better than this_.

Also in that moment, a blur of blue light whooshed past where Emilia was hiding, scooped her up and took her away.

"Hey!" She yelled once her feet were back on the ground. One hand gripped the shirt Pietro Maximoff wore, and the other was behind her back, ready for another fight. " _What are you doing?_ "

"What _Captain America_ told me to!" Pietro snapped back. His voice intrigued Emilia. It was worried, clearly, and there were equal elements of disdain and pride when he spoke of Steve.

Emilia narrowed her eyes. " _Really?_ And what did the _căpitan_ ask you to do?"

There was a flash of blue, and three seconds later, Pietro was back. "Get civilians out of the way, _which_ **you** are _keeping me from!_ "

"Get civilians out of the way from _what_?" Emilia yelled at him harshly.

As if on que, the people began to scream. Emilia could feel the energy; the kinetic energy pushing the train onward, the friction that came from the trackless ground, and the new, oddly inhuman energy that Wanda Maximoff specialized in.

"Take me there!" Emilia demanded suddenly.

Pietro dashed off to move more people, and was back in a time that impressed even Emilia, who was trying very hard to hate him. "You want to go _on_ that derailed train?" Pietro yelled back at her.

Angry now, Emilia switched from her heavily accented English, to a passionate, driven Romania. Pietro had to speak it; the Sokovian dialect he spoke natively wasn't very common, and his file said he was assumed to speak Russian, when Romanian was more likely.

" _Are you deaf?_ " Emilia shouted at him. Pietro was momentarily stunned by her sudden language change. " _ **Yes!**_ _I want you to get me on that train!_ "

This time, along with her Romanian commands, Emilia boldly looped her arms around Pietro's neck and lifted her legs up. Obviously, Pietro caught her, and rolled his eyes as he ran.

In half a second flat, Pietro dropped Emilia's feet on the unsteady floor of the train. "Do not make me regret this, _tiganui' dracului_!"

Emilia rolled her eyes at the Romanian derogatory slung at her.

"You will only regret it if you die, _meeshe!_ " She shot back, using a slur from her own native language. Her brother taught it to her when his leg was in a particular amount of pain.

When the Maximoff boy was gone, Emilia quickly went to Wanda, who looked at her with wide, threatening red eyes.

 _I am here to help,_ Emilia thought, remembering the Maximoff girl's ability to read minds. Her eyes remained red, but they were no longer threatening. The energy from the moving train was something Emilia could've handled on her own, but turning kinetic energy into electrical, or heat energy in the middle of a big city wasn't something Emilia was comfortable with.

 _Open your mind and hold out your hand,_ Emilia asked Wanda. Slowly, Wanda's left hand turned its palm towards her. Emilia grabbed it and closed her eyes.

She could feel it.

Emilia could feel the energy of the train being absorbed through her skin; every pore took in excited atoms and pulled them into her chest. It tickled and burned; transforming energy, that is. It filled her lungs with a soft crackle on every inhale, and the mumble of human energy left on the exhale, flying down her right arm, out her fingertips and into Wanda.

It gave the Maximoff girl quite a start when she felt Emilia's energy in her own body. There was a brief, intense connection of their minds, and the animosity between the two girls was gone instantly.

They both desperately wanted the same thing; their family back, alive, even for just one more dinner.

After that, they _truly_ began to work together. It was only a matter of seconds before they stopped the train, only yards away from a building Pietro didn't have a prayer of clearing yet.

The two dark haired women, both breathing heavily, turned to look at each other.

"Hi," Emilia said with a tired, wry smile. "I-I don't think we've met yet."

Wanda let out a soft chuckle. "No...I don't think we have."

"Emilia Dalca," the gypsy girl said, holding out her hand. The material of her chiffon over shirt was blackened and seared from the copious amount of energy that had been taken in and expelled by her hands.

"Wanda Maximoff," the other girl said in her equally heavy accent. They shook hands, a symbolic truce forming between the two, and just stared at one another for a moment.

"So, Wanda," Emilia said, cracking a mischievous smirk. "Have you ever had a real gypsy with the gift read your tarot cards?"

* * *

 **Here's a little sneak peak for you... ;)**

* * *

 _"Why?" James asked, only half aware he spoke out loud._

 _"Why what?" Anna asked, taking a drink from the milk bottle next to her._

 _"Why did Bucky love you?" He barely breathed the words out; it was a miracle Anna heard him at all. James knew she heard him by the half-gargled sound she let out. Anna choked on her milk._

 _Anna coughed twice, set the bottle down, and cleared her throat once before she spoke. "Wh-What?"_

 **_-~0O0~-_**

 _"I-I don't know," Anan whispered a moment later._

 _"You don't know what?" James asked softly. "You-You don't know why you're helping me? Why you care?"_

 _She shook her head, making her wavy hair fall over her huddled form. It upset James to see Anna this way. He liked it when she was strong and bold. Sure, it made him worry about her sometimes, but but it was better than seeing Anna all small and helpless looking._

 _"What don't you know, Glow?" James whispered to her._

 _He called her **Glow**._

 _When the pet-name that she held so close to her heart was spoken, Anna choked and half-sobbed out her answer. "Wh-Why Buc-Bucky l-loved me!"_


	37. Chapter 37: To my Glow

**I have a few things to say before you cupcakes get reading.**

 **1) The italicized blurb is from Ch. 10: Anna Shot a Nazi in the Ass**

 **2) I cried when I wrote the ending. I'm not kidding. I'm sniffling and hugging my Captain America teddy bear right now.**

 **I love you all to crumbs, cupcakes! ;)**

 **~Christianne**

* * *

Anna POV — The Day After the Battle of New York

 _I woke up around noon._

 _I lazily got out of bed and frowned as I touched my hair. It was **curly** again._

 _"Hey," Steve said from my couch. "You missed Thor takin' Loki back to Asgard."_

 _"Hm." I grunted as I got a mug from the cupboard and stuck it under my coffee maker. I punched the buttons with my thumb and leaned on the counter._

 _"Your hair's curly again," Steve spoke up again. "Nice to see the Annie I knew."_

 _She's gone._

 _"Hm."_

 _Steve got up and leaned on the breakfast bar. "Agent Fowler caught me last night before I left," he started._

 _"Let me guess," I sighed, taking my mug. "He told you, to ask me, if I wanted to get a drink sometime."_

 _He chuckled once. "He's asked you before?"_

 _"Every time I go to the Triskelion." I groaned, taking a drink of the strong black coffee. The frown Steve had on his face didn't go unnoticed by me._

 _"Cream and sugar aren't really accessible where I've spent my time." I switched topics. "I learned how to take it plain."_

 _"I...I think you should go to get a drink with Fowler." Steve said after a moment._

 _I snorted. "What? You were my beau's best pal, shouldn't you be all," I paused and started talking in a deep voice, mimicking Steve. " **No one will ever be as good as him. You deserve better, Annie. You went with my best friend and now you're with that dumbass?** "_

 _"I don't sound like that," Steve snapped at me, crossing his arms. "And you know he wanted you to find someone and be happy...Hell, Anna I want you to be happy."_

 _Ellie said that all the time._

 _"I am happy." I mumbled as I sipped my coffee. "And...Me finding someone else...Never came up between us."_

 _Steve's brow furrowed. "Didn't you find his note?"_

 _"What note?" I asked as I yawned._

 _"He wrote you a note in case he...In case **this** happened," Steve explained to me slowly. "Didn't you find it?"_

 _"He didn't leave me a note." I said firmly, staring at my coffee. "I went through all of his things, Steve. Twice."_

 _"He said he put it in some book," Steve added on._

 _I dropped my mug._

 _It fell onto the floor and broke, sending hot coffee everywhere. I didn't feel it hit my bare legs; I was already running to my storage room._

 _I pounded the code in four times before it was accepted, and made a beeline for the wardrobe at the back. I threw the door open and searched through the books I had neatly stacked on the bottom. They were all in airtight bags; I found the one I was looking for and ripped the clear plastic off._

 _When Bucky couldn't sleep, I would read to him. Lewis Carroll was our shared favorite. He was, after all, the author of the book Bucky tried so hard to understand so he could sound smart when we danced. Since he died, I couldn't bare to read any more of his work. Or, poetry of any kind really._

 _The book I grabbed was the Margaret Sackville book he got for me; the one he wrote in. I flipped through the pages quickly before I tossed it to the floor. I did this to every book in the wardrobe until there was only one left._

 _ **The Jabberwocky**_

 _I opened it up to the back cover, and pressed my thumb to the pages. I let them fly past each other until it stopped. A weathered, yellowed envelope was stuck between the pages of the poem he memorized for me._

 _Slouching down against the wardrobe, I let the book fall into my lap as I looked at the letter. I didn't even try to stop myself from crying._

 _On the back of the letter were three words in familiar scrawl, written with a fountain pen with a thin tip; the one he took out of a HYDRA officer's office. It was 24 carat gold and had a mother of pearl inlay on the cap. I had it on my desk in my bedroom now._

 _I traced my fingers over the words and sicked in a breath._

 _**To my Glow**_

* * *

Omniscient POV

Once back in New York, everyone seemed to go their own way. Dr. Banner and Steve took Ellie to the infirmary. TJ was aimlessly wandering, until Clint steered him in the direction of his bedroom. Thor was still doing God knows what, leaving Kára to be the only non-human in the tower; she took to her bedroom and shut the door tightly. Tony buzzed around his lab, trying to get ahead of Ultron's plans. Emilia seem to disappear once she got off the quinjet. Wanda and Pietro Maximoff were lead to an open living space, complete with a kitchen, large TV and many plush sofas. They were told told they had the run of the place, but the tone in Maria Hill's voice strongly implied that they should remain in the designated floor.

Pietro was rifling through the fridge, looking for something to eat, and had his back to the counter. He didn't see Emilia come in, and walk to the granite counter silently in her bare feet. The only sound she made, which Poetro didn't hear, came from the linen material of her skirt; the hem scraped softly against her bare legs. Said hem was uneven, and brushed the middle of her thighs. It peeked out from under the men's, red cableknit sweater she wore over it (it belonged to one of the boys from her community, he claimed it was good luck, and Emilia need as much of it as she could get), allowing only a few inches of the faded floral pattern to be seen. She's taken a long, hot shower when she returned to the tower; her hair was still damp against her back. The braids, beads and thread woven into parts of her hair stood out prominently against her wet hair, which was darker and had much less body than it normally did. Emilia waited patiently for Pietro to turn around, playing with her tarot cards.

When the Maximoff boy turned around, he let out an involuntary sound of surprise around the pear he was biting into.

"What are you doing here?" Pietro said to the gypsy girl, his tone was more harsh than he intended it to be, but not by much.

"Your sister is asleep on the couch," Emilia responded simply, her voice calm. "You should cover her with a blanket."

A blue flash was the only sign that Pietro moved at all. Emilia looked over her shoulder and saw the Maximoff girl soundly asleep, now covered with a slate gray cashmere blanket from toe to chin.

"Why are you here?" Pietro asked again. "Does _Stark_ not have a floor for you to? Why spend time in a kitten when you can count the jewels you have, eh?"

Emilia rolled her eyes, but couldn't keep in the muttered response she let out in Romanian; " _The only precious stones I have are on my mother's bracelet, you_ _ **child**_ _._ " Pietro scoffed, and waited for her real response. Emilia had a real question to ask him, and pissing him off (while quite fun) wouldn't get ensure an answer.

" _Did you have a history class in school?_ " Emilia asked, continuing to speak in Romanian. Pietro took a split second to consider her voice while she spoke in a language that sounded much more native to her. Her English as husky and strong; it made her appear even stronger than she already did, and gave her a mischievous edge. While speaking Romanian, on the other hand, Emilia sounded younger and less life-hardened. Her tone was the same that Pietro's held before Wanda and him went to HYDRA, at least, that's how he imagined it.

" _Yes, we did...I was terrible at it all_ ," Pietro responded in equally fluent Romanian, biting into his pear. Fruit, fresh or not, wasn't very common in Sokovia, so in the days he'd been away, he ate as much of it as he could. " _Why do you want to know?_ "

" _I never went to much school...When I did, I was excellent at history,_ " Emilia paused and glanced up at Pietro with a glint in her eye. " _I_ _ **was**_ _there for most of the major things._ "

" _I'm trying to understand you,_ " Emilia explained, looking at Pitro fully. " _I am trying to understand your choice to willingly join HYDRA._ "

Pietro made a 'Pfft!' sound and shook his head. Captain America had given both Maximoff twins a stern lecture about their choice to allow HYDRA to experiment on them. " _Say whatever you want,_ " he grunted. " _It does not matter...What's done is done._ "

" _Do you know what HYDRA did to us?_ " Emilia asked, briefly confusing Pietro. He was under the impression that, along with having no personality similarities, they shared practically no cultural similarities. The only possible one he could think of was religion; Pietro was raised as an Orthodox Roman Catholic, that is, until their oval church was bombed and subsequently condemned. Not that it bothered Pietro much, since he'd stopped attending long before due to his wavering belief that there was anybody watching over them all. He wasn't sure what religion gypsies followed, or if they were religious at all. When he was a child, his parents took him and his sister to a carnival a few towns over. There was a gypsy fortune teller there who read his sister's palm and spoke about what 'the Gods' had in store for her. It was all bullshit, of course. But Emilia didn't wear any religious jewelry, so Pietro could only vaguely guess.

" _Do you know what HYDRA did to us?_ " Emilia asked again when she only got a thoughtful look from Pietro. She elaborated by adding " _What they did to our part of the world?_ "

The blond boy remained silent; he almost preferred the captain's lecture to the questions Emilia asked him.

" _I was very young when they first attacked our community_ ," she continued in a low, calm voice as she began looking at her tarot cards, which she began to artfully shuffle over and over. " _I'm still not sure if they were HYDRA or SS...Whoever they were, the killed my entire family...My parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles...The families of my friends were killed to...I was with the rest of the children, picking berries in the woods, and every adult back at the caravans was slaughtered...They waited there, for hours, for us to come back...Some weren't even dead, and they just stood there, letting them suffer..._ "

Pietro snapped his gaze back to Emilia, looking away from his pear, as she spoke. He knew she was odd, but took it to be apart of her gypsy heritage. Now he knew that it was because Emilia was _much_ older than she looked.

" _My brother and I, along with all the other children, were put in train cars...We got to one of the camps_ ," Emilia said, pushing her red sweater sleeve up, revealing a warped, faded row of numbers, _**10443Z**_ , on her left forearm. " _I was three when I got this,_ " she commented softly, brushing her fingers over her tattoo.

" _I was taken with my older brother and held in a room with other children and their older brothers, while the rest were shoved into the gas chambers..._ " Emilia's voice got thick, but she swallowed twice to get rid of it. Pietro could still hear it in her voice. " _My brother_ _ **fought**_ _with the_ _ **monsters**_ _who killed everyone we loved to keep my safe...He was one of three hundred boys who did the same, and the only one to live through it...He needed a cane for the rest of his life because of an injury he got during then..._ "

Pietro didn't say a word as Emilia spoke; he even put his pear down. He couldn't think of something to say, even if he wanted to speak.

" _He fought with them for three years to keep me safe_ ," she sighed. Emilia looked up at Pietro with wide eyes that were so contradictory to what he was used to seeing. They were usually a guarded, cold, mischievous brown, opposed to the oddly childlike wonderment, curiosity and sadness they were filled with as she looked at him now.

" _Why did you let them do that to her?_ " Emilia asked. " _She was your sister, Pietro...Even if you were bad at history, you must have known what HYDRA did. You let them experiment on her, on you...What were you thinking as you let them put stuff in your veins?_ "

Pietro worked his jaw, trying to work out an answer.

"It's not your fault...Not at all," Emilia said, switching back to English. "I just want to understand how you let them do such awful things to your and Wanda."

* * *

It was late that night, but with the residual energy from the train still inside her, Emilia was wide awake.

She'd read Wanda's cards when she woke from her cat nap, and even though she left the twins' floor, Emilia continued to play with her old, worn, well-loved cards.

Absent mindedly, Emilia started a seven card spread for Pietro. The first six cards were mundane at best, saying nothing out of the ordinary for him. The seventh card was always the most exciting for Emilia to turn over in a seven card spread like the one she had before her now. The first six told about a person's past, present and immediate future, giving them advice for each one. But the seventh card was the final outcome. In Pietro's case, going by his other cards and Emilia's gift, the last card would be about the final outcome of him and Ultron.

"Pack it up Dalca!" Steve called through Emilia's open door. "We're going to Sokovia!"

"What's happened?" She asked, catching the clean, un-ripped tactical clothing the captain threw at her.

"Ultron," he said simply before walking away.

Emilia had already closed her door and pulled her sweater off when the seventh card caught her eye.

Quickly, she turned it over,

One of the first things someone it taught while learning to read tarot, is not to judge the cards in such a literal way. Emilia's grandmother told her that. She explained how her gift worked as well; in simple terms, Emilia had a gut feeling towards the cards, and knew when they told the truth or lied.

As Emilia looked down at the card in her hand, Pietro's final outcome, she _knew_ it was true in the literal sense.

Kára knocked on Emilia's door, shouting for her to hurry up, but her voice was barely heard.

Emilia, in her hand, held the thirteenth Major Arcana.

Pietro's seventh card, his final outcome, was Death.

* * *

James was seated on the edge of his bed, staring intently at his thumbs. Anna was lounging on her own bed, sprawled out against the headboard. Her brown eyes stared at the grainy picture displayed by the TV, disinterested, as she took handfuls of cereal from the box in her lap and poured them into her mouth. Every few handfuls or so, Anna chased the cereal with a swig of milk from the half-empty glass bottle they got that morning from the owners of the hotel.

"Why?" James asked, only half aware that he spoke out loud.

"Why what?" Anna asked in return,bringing the milk bottle to her lips.

"Why did Bucky love you?" He barely breathed the words out; it was a miracle Anna heard him at all. James knew she heard him by the half-gargled sound she let out. Anna choked on her milk.

Anna coughed twice, set the bottle down, and cleared her throat once before she spoke. "Wh-What?"

"I-...I've been remembering things more since...since we saw the orphanage," James explained. Every muscle in his body was coiled tight and his eyes were wide as he watched his right thumb rub over his cool, metal left one. "Just little things...Bits 'n pieces all mixed up and out of order...I'm doin' ok at puttin' them in place...He-He helps me...I've asked why he loved you lots'a times...Gave myself a headache..."

Anna just gaped at him, eyes wide and unblinking as they stared at the back of his head. He hadn't said anything about her loving her since Greece a few days prior. She'd almost hoped he'd forgotten about it.

"You...You shouldn't give yourself a headache, baby," Anna said thickly. "You know that force-forcing it doesn't help...You know that..." She trailed off, stunned.

"Why?" James asked again. "I know B- _Bucky_ loved you, and I know I love you. I know why I love you, but I don't know why B-...Why **he** loved you...I need to know."

"Honey...Baby, please don't make me answer these questions," Anna said tightly; her throat was tightening in preparation to sob.

"I _need_ to know, Anna," James said, his voice the smallest amount more commanding. "I-I _want_ to know...I want to understand why I c- _care_ about you so much, even before I loved you...I want to know why you're helping me after the-the...after the things I've done."

Anna tossed the box of cereal to the side table, eating them fall to the floor. It would almost definitely bring mice, but Anna was too preoccupied to care. James heard her move against the bedding. The faint reflection on the bright TV showed James Anna's new position; curled close to herself, one knee hugged to her chest, her head resting on that knee as her shoulders took an unsteady rhythm.

"I-I don't know," Anna whispered a moment later.

"You don't know what?" James asked softly, turning around. Now that his Glow couldn't see him, he was more comfortable facing her. "You-You don't know why you're helping me? Why you care?"

She shook her head, making her wavy hair fall over her huddled form. It upset James to see Anna this way. He liked it when she was strong and bold. Sure, it made him worry about her sometimes, but but it was better than seeing Anna all small and helpless looking.

"What don't you know, Glow?" James whispered to her.

He called her _Glow_.

When the pet-name that she held so close to her heart was spoken, Anna choked and half-sobbed out her answer. "Wh-Why Buc-Bucky l-loved me!"

James sat, stunned, on his bed as he listened to the breaths Anna took and held, trying to stay controlled. They would begin by Anna sucking in harshly and held the air in her lungs for a time. When she let the air out, it was in jagged, hard sobs that couldn't be controlled.

"What-What do you mean?" James' mouth asked involuntarily. His voice was just a pitch or two higher as he spoke. He thought that, maybe, _he_ was speaking.

Anna took slower breaths, and calmed down some. She raised her face and pushed back her hair. James felt an angry churn in his stomach as he looked at her red-rimmed eyes and shiny cheeks. He watched as she roughly wiped her cheeks dry, let out a breath, then looked at him. She gave him a sad smile, patting the place next to her on the bed.

That gesture meant _'come sit next to me.'_

James went to her side so fast that Anna's teary eyes could hardly process it. He looked at her with his eyes wide, waiting. Anna watched those familiar cerulean blues dance around quickly, taking her and their surroundings in with sharp glances that held a childlike curiosity.

"I-I was a real mess and broken when Bucky met me," Anna began to explain. "I'd been raised in a home that squeezed out most of my self-esteem...I didn't think such a handsome man like Bucky would ever take a second look at me, let alone _chase me_ like he did..."

"I-I was handsome?" James asked softly; this was new information.

Anna let out a weak, wet laugh. She put a hand on his cheek, and stroked the stubble covered skin as she smiled sadly. "You're still a real looker, darlin'."

James felt a rare smile twice and tug at his lips as his cheeks were suddenly hot. He ignored it when Anna started talking again.

"He...Bucky was an amazing man," Anna said softly, leaning back on the headboard. Her face turned to look out the window at the setting sun, and her hand fell from James' cheek to his neck, where her fingers gently prodded at his skin and played with his hair.

"I was really shy...Hadn't ever been on a real date before, and never even had a man give me a glance of any kind..." Anna said wistfully. A smile flickered over her lips. "He thought it was pretty funny how I could walk while looking at my shoes the whole time and never run into anything...He was everything a girl could ask for and everything a man wanted to be...God only knows what Bucky saw in me back then...I could hardly look him in the eye in the beginning..."

There was a heavy, crushing pause before James spoke.

"Why...Why did he love you?"

Anna sniffed, and ran a hand over her face. "I can't give you anythin' more spesific than what I already told you, sweetie-pie."

James nodded slightly, looking at his hands. The question he asked next made Anna shut her eyes and let out a squeak-like sob.

"Why did you love Bucky?"

The hand Anna didn't have on James went to cover her nose and mouth in an attempt to hold in her sobs. James watched her shake for a moment, and wanted to hold her hand. Anna's hand was on his right shoulder, so he'd have to taker her breakable, flesh and bone and skin hand in his metal one. Metal slid and clacked on metal as James let the cybernetic limb to his left go completely slack. He moved it _just_ enough to get his arm to the right place, and slowly curved his cold fingers around Anna's tiny, warm hand. Her crying choked off slightly, and started all over again when she watched him softly cradle her hand in his. The smooth, beveled metal plate that created the pad of his thumb stroked hesitant circles on the back of Anna's hand.

Anna took deep breaths until she could speak in a more understood manner.

"I-I loved Bucky be-because-" Anna cut herself off with a hiccuping sob. She took a breath before speaking.

"I loved Bucky for a lot of reasons, but-but...I knew I loved him when I realized that he loved me when no one else did...Including myself."

James couldn't believe what Anna was saying; how could somebody like Anna feel unloved? How could she not love herself?

Without his knowledge, his left hand curled tighter around Anna's hand. James still had problems initiating contact between Anna and himself, so holding her hand tighter was all he could do to comfort her.

It felt like forever to Anna until she stopped crying; James' near perfect mental clock told him it took Anna just under forty minutes to stop crying, but closer to fifty six for her breathing to return to normal.

"Why'd you wanna...know why he loved me?" Anna asked, breaking the silence. "How would knowing that help put your messed up melon back together?"

James looked away, his version of a shrug. "You were everything."

"Hm? Speak up, Jimmy baby," Anna said, cracking a weak smile.

"You were everything, to him, Anna," James said, looking back to the wide-eyed blonde next to him. "To-To Bucky...You were everything. You are his whole world."

Anna's heart swelled at his words. She knew James was only stating facts, but the feeling she got just hearing those words coming out of _his_ mouth in _his_ voice made her feel like it was 1944 again and Bucky was waiting to take her dancing.

James didn't even flinch when Anna put both hands on his cheeks. Every now and then when she did that, James felt...odd. Her big, deep, soulful eyes were unblinking as they stared at him. It felt like Anna as looking through him, not at him. The first few times she did that, James was convinced that Anna saw something different, something that wasn't him. Months ago, James realized she didn't see _him_ when she looked at him so deeply. Anna saw Bucky, the man he once was.

When she held his cheeks and looked at him so deeply, James too the time to study the expressions vividly shown in Anna's eyes. He watched, studied and filed away every single thing he saw in her eyes, but James only concluded one thing; her eyes sparkled more when she looked at him like was now. They glowed.

It hit him like a freight train.

Love.

Anna looked at him with love. Well, _through him_ with love. She was truly looking at Bucky. Not him.

She closed her eyes briefly, then stood up. "I...I wasn't planning on showing you this. Ever, really," Anna sighed, squatting down to search through a bag.

Anna was just about to stand up when a _ping_ -ing sound came from her other bag. After a moment of deliberation, Anna grabbed the phone and answered it.

"Yeah?...Jeez—TJ, _slow down_ ," Anna said, standing back up. James could hear the frantic voice of a young man on the other Side of the line, but he wasn't playing attention. He was focused on the letter, made of heavy stock, in Anna's hand.

TJ rambled loudly in Anna's ear, and James watched Anna's composed face turn to a stoic mask of fear, anger and intense thought. She looked at him, and even though Anna knew James could hear what was being said by TJ, she turned to him and mouthed two words; _It's starting_.

Ultron had taken one of the Avengers; Romanoff, the woman. On top of that, there was about to be a _massive_ hero-on-robot battle in a populated area.

Anna began taking very fast about their 'game plan.' This plan entailed her going into Ultron's lair under the HYDRA facility to free her friend, and James would begin clearing the building in the middle of the city.

"No," he said suddenly. Anna turned to face him, surprised.

James took one of the blue, white and black bandanas from Anna's bag. He held it in his flesh hand, feeling the malubul, soft, light cotton between his rough fingertips. Repeating a mantra of words, James lifted the bandana to his face. He tied it around his head, covering his mouth and nose, with the knot at the back of his head. James looked at Anna as he slung his heavy tactical jacket over his shoulders. "I-...I'll go get her. You clear the city."

Anna nodded slowly, surprised to see him volunteering to take on the part of the plan that involved interacting with a specific person.

"You'd be better at getting people out...to safety...The woman is an agent...I-I interact with agents better than normal people," James explained under his breath.

"I want to do one more thing," Anna said, taking a metal pick from the table; she'd worked on his arm earlier. She took his palm and skillfully pushed the plates back to reveal the components. Using the pick, Anna turned a small gauge until she couldn't anymore.

"I turned the strength regulation down as far as I could," Anna explained, pushing the plates back. "Be careful around people, ok? You should be able to punch and rip right through robots with this thing."

James nodded, understanding.

The pair stepped out of the building minutes later, wearing identical bandanas over their noses and mouths.

"Oh! I don't wanna forget to give you this," Anna said, catching James' shoulder. She held the envelope out to him, and ran her thumb, exposed in fingerless gloves, rub over the back of the envelope and the words written there. "Read this," she said with a nod.

"Just... _Please_ come back with it," Anna mumbled, her eyes wide and pleading. "I'm pretty sure I can't be with you when you read it, but it's important...Just bring it back to me, please? Ok?"

James nodded firmly, taking the letter and shoving it carefully into an inner pocket of his jacket.

They parted ways; Anna going to the center of the city, and James going to the outskirts. James stopped after only a few steps, and looked over his shoulder. He watched Anna walk away until he couldn't see her anymore.

* * *

Natasha was pacing around her cell, crowded by obsolete technology. She'd sent a good five hours sending out a signal to Clint, and if he didn't get it then, he was an idiot and she was going to die here.

The redhead jerked to a stop when she heard the metallic clang of metal hitting metal. Her first thought was that Stark had come for her, but the sounds weren't right. If Tony and his suit were heading her way, Natasha would be hearing the sounds of his flight stabilizers/blasters and the metallic clangs as they hit their targets. His loud mouthed, robotic laced sarcasm would also be heard. Instead of any of that, Natasha heard only more metal-on-metal hits, and the occasional grunt and groan.

The fighting sounds stopped soon enough, and heavy sure footfalls echoed through the dungeon halls. Ready for, well, _something_ , Natasha stood at attention.

The first thing she saw was a large silhouette. She first placed the tall, broad shouldered man as the captain, but the hair was too long. Natasha's second guess was Thor, but their hair was too short. The unidentified man continued walking towards the cell that held the battered, red haired woman.

"Because they won't stop," the man said once within earshot. His words were partly muffled by the bandana across the lower half of his face, but they were clear enough for Natasha to pick up on the low, rough-edged, calm voice, and commit it to memory.

"Excuse me?" She asked, cocking a hip defiantly.

"She told me to tell you that," Bandana Man said, grunting effortlessly as he shoved a crate away with one foot; the crate easily weighed six hundred pounds.

"Who's _she_?" Natasha questioned, cocking her hip to the other side and crossing her arms.

The Bandana Man stood in front of the cells doors. He was just out of arm's length, so Natasha couldn't grab him through the bars. She had a similar distance between herself and the bars, so she couldn't really blame him.

Bandana Man's eyes were partially covered by curdle cut, shaggy brown hair, and were darting around rapidly, his fingers twitching; Natasha could tell he was uncomfortable. He closed his eyes, and Nat watched as his shoulders rose slowly as he inhaled deeply, and fell with his exhale.

"Before you were released from Barton's custody to train for S.H.I.E.L.D., Anna Brightman asked you why you were going against everything you knew to help people you never met...One was actually trying to kill you...Anna thought you'd say it was because they ruined you and you wanted revenge," Bandana Man explained.

He took a step to his left and reached up to the iron hinge on the door with his gloved left hand. His fingers curled around it, and with a sharp tug, paired with a grunt, Bandana Man ripped the hinge clean off the door.

Natasha wanted to say something smart and flirty, but she was too rattled by what Bandana Man said was saying to say _anything_. What she was being told was known by three people; Clint, Anna, and herself. If the point of his little speech was to prove he was with Anna, he was doing a pretty damn good job.

"But you didn't say that," Bandana Man continued. Natasha blinked a few times, having a hard time recalling what he'd said before ripping the hinge off the cell door. "Anna asked you why, and you told her it was because the people-...The _organization_ that trained you-"

"-wouldn't stop," Natasha finished for him. She was experiencing a rare moment of vulnerability; that, paired with being injured and kidnapped, put her in a near daze. "I-I told her that the Red Room wouldn't stop, and I wanted to help bring them down."

Bandana Man nodded. He stepped closer again, and grasped a bar with his right hand. He brought his foot up and slammed it down, snapping the bottom hinge clean off. The grip he hand on one bar yanked the door out of its iron frame. Natasha couldn't hold in her slightly impressed expression.

"C'mon," Bandana Man said, reaching towards Natasha. His left hand was just about to close around her hand, but stopped in midair. Bandana Man hesitated, then reached up to slowly close around her forearm. "I'm supposed to take you to him."

Natasha instantly doubled her suspicions. Bandana Man still lacked a name, but it was clear he knew Anna, or Barton, really, but he said 'she' told him to speak of Natasha's history. The grip on her arm was steel, so there was no point in wiggling to try and get out, and with how easy he ripped apart her cell door, Natasha (fully rested, no wounds, hopped up on carbs and with one HTH weapon of choice) would have one hell'a'va fight ahead of her, and her odds of winning would be slim.

"Who's _him_?" Natasha demanded, definitely keeping up with the quick pace Bandana Man was dragging her along with. She thought about just not keeping up at all, but the idea of being dragged along or thrown over his shoulder appealed to her a lot less than jogging to keep up.

The sound of footsteps got her attention. Natasha was shoved forward slightly, and when she spun around to see where the mysterious Bandana Man went, she saw nothing.

"Natasha!"

She spun around again when he name was called in a familiar voice.

"Tasha, oh my God, thank God you're ok," Bruce said once he quickly approached the redhead. He knew Natasha wasn't really one for physical contact (fighting excluded), and neither was he, but Bruce went on instinct and grabbed her into a hug.

Natasha hugged the scientist back in her own way; her nimble hands resting on his back gently, pressing harder now and then. " _Tasha_?" She asked, her voice muffled by his shoulder.

"Yeah...Is-Is that ok?" Bruce asked, keeping her in the hug. It'd been awhile since h hugged somebody. It was actually pretty nice.

Once pulling out of the hug, Natasha gave Bruce one of her half-smiles; one corner of her mouth was pulled up higher than the other, and her eyes were full of a mischievous, almost devious, sparkle. "Maybe...I think you should keep it up so I can see if I like it."

* * *

Once Romanoff was safely escaping Ultron's bunker with the Hulk, James found a sturdy corner by a large window, for light and an escape, and pulled out the letter Anna gave him.

The elegant scrawl on the envelope addressed it to _**To my Glow**_.

James slowly removed the folded papers from the envelope, opened them up and began reading.

 _ **My Dearest Glow,**_

 _ **If I am still with you, breathing, stop reading. Stop reading this letter right now. I mean it, Anna. Fold this back up, take it to the sink and put a match to it. Don't stop until it's ash.**_

 _ **If I'm not...Darling, if I'm not breathing anymore, read this letter. If I'm not breathing anymore...**_

 _ **I'm sorry, Glow. I'm so,**_ _ **so**_ _ **sorry.**_

James blinked at the first few lines, taking the information in.

This was written by Bucky for Anna, and James felt almost uncomfortable reading it. It was like reading the mail of two strangers.

 _ **I knew a few guys who wrote letters like these. They had a plan for their girls to get them if something happened to them here. I mailed seven of them; Rosie Alberta in Pittsburgh, Belle Jamison in St. Paul, Minnesota, Clara O'Riley in Boston, Virginia Bloomberg in Queens, Mary Jane Tucker in Green Bay, Wisconsin, and Lily Smith, she lived in Florida. I can't remember the city, but it was by the ocean. I had a letter to you, back then, you know? It was a short little note, really, saying thank you for your letters, friendship, and those big brown doe eyes and corkscrew curls. I had to write you a new one, though, after all we've been through together.**_

 _ **Annabelle Jane Brightman, Glow, darling, there aren't enough words in any language to explain to you how thankful I am to have met you. When I smiled at you way back in New Jersey—that was the first real smile I'd given anybody since I got my draft letter. When I was in Italy, being poked and prodded like an animal, I would think of your face and I knew everything would be OK, because no God is cruel enough to put a girl like you in my life for a short time, then rip me away to die without seeing you again, dancing with you, or any of the thousands of plans I already had for you and I back then.**_

 _ **I knew I really loved you the second I laid eyes on you after Steve yanked me out of that hellhole in Italy. Sure, I thought you might be the one after you fixed my tie for the first time back at Camp Leigh, but it wasn't until after Italy that I knew for sure. Sometimes, I would lean in the doorway to your lab and just watch you work. It's amazing to me how effortless it is for you to do all those complicated baseball equations. But waking up and rolling over and seeing you cuddled up next to me...Waking up with you, the girl I love, not to me made me think I was dead a morning or two; no way did a guy like me, all messed up and broken, get a girl like you. But I did, Annie, I'm all yours and you're all mine.**_

 _ **I'm gone now, and I know you're going to be really sad about it. I know you're going to sob and cry and scream and that's OK—and if**_ _ **anybody**_ _ **tells you different, either tell Steve to set them straight, or get a seance going and I'll tell them myself. But, Glow, what's**_ _ **not**_ _ **OK, is you thinking you can be sad for the rest of your life, because you can't. I won't let you. I need you to think that, after you've had your time to grieve, you can be happy again. I was just a piece of your life, Annie, just because I'm over it doesn't mean that you are. Once you're done crying, I want you to pick yourself up, put on your favorite dress (you know which one I'm talking about, the dark pink one with the lace), stand in front of the mirror and say "**_ _ **I'm going to be OK.**_ _ **" Say it until you believe it, because I know you do and you will be. You think the world has broken you after all you've been through, but it hasn't, darling. It smacks you down and you keep getting on back up because you're stronger than anything this great big, fucked up universe can throw at you.**_

 _ **There's a home waiting for you back in New York, Anna, and I'll be damned (**_ _ **I mean that**_ _ **) if it sits there for the rest of time, broken down and without a Glow to live in it. I want you to have horses, chickens and a pretty garden. I want you to have Christmas dinners and Thanksgiving meals in that big dining room. I want you to sit on the porch in a rocking chair with a glass of iced tea. But most importantly, Anna, I want you to be**_ _ **happy**_ _ **. If that means that you share that farmhouse with another man and have little kids running around, then that's what you need to do. I think I've shown you what a real gentleman is like, and you have enough knowledge to know what they should never, under any circumstances, do to you or your children. If it puts your mind at ease, have Steve meet the lucky guy and get his stamp of approval. I'd say Peggy, but she's as protective of you as I am and she might hit him. If you don't find a man to spend your days with, that's OK to. But don't be alone because of me. I can't enjoy Heaven (or wherever the the hell I end up) knowing you're all alone because of**_ _ **me**_ _ **. If you spend your days without a man, it needs to be because**_ _ **you just didn't find anyone**_ _ **—and not**_ _ **every**_ _ **man can be James Buchanan Barnes, Glow, so you might have to lower your standards**_ _ **just**_ _ **a little.**_

 _ **I love you, Anna. Please don't ever forget that—Please don't forget**_ _ **me**_ _ **. You don't need to cry every day, in fact if you do that, I'll be pretty upset with you, but...Glow, we both don't have many people. I could invite every close friend I've ever had to a dinner party and we'd only need 15 forks. So, Annie, if you could just keep a little picture of me around, or hang my medals up in the living room...Just don't forget me, Glow. Please don't forget me.**_

 _ **I'll be waiting in Heaven for you, Glow, with a kiss and a dance queued up.**_

 _ **Love forever,**_

 _ **Your Bucky**_

 _ **PS~ I wrote you that poem you asked for.**_

James unfolded the last page.

 _ **As I sit in Heaven  
**_ _ **And watch you everyday,  
**_ _ **I try to let you know, with signs,  
**_ _ **I never went away.  
**_ _ **I hear you when you're laughing,  
**_ _ **And watch you as you sleep.  
**_ _ **I even place my arms around you,  
**_ _ **To calm you as you weep.  
**_ _ **I see you wish the days away,  
**_ _ **Begging to have me home  
**_ _ **So I try to send you signs,  
**_ _ **So you know you're not alone.  
**_ _ **Don't feel guilty that you have  
**_ _ **The life that was denied to me,  
**_ _ **Heaven is truly beautiful,  
**_ _ **Just you wait and see.  
**_ _ **So live your life,  
**_ _ **Laugh again,  
**_ _ **Enjoy yourself,  
**_ _ **Be free.  
**_ _ **Then I know  
**_ _ **With every breath you take,  
**_ _ **You'll be taking one for me.**_


	38. Chapter 38: I'll Always Be With You

**I'm crying, my cupcakes. I'm crying.**

 **Leave me reviews!**

 **You're all awesoe.**

 **~Christianne**

* * *

Omniscient POV

As the city rose higher into the sky, Anna searched through the rubble more frantically. She had a plan, of sorts, but it would only work if she found something to put an eight-pointed star on the back of her tactical jacket.

James was, of course, close by. He kept within earshot of Anna so he could hear if she needed him. Anna was always on James' mind, but she wasn't currently at the forefront; the forefront of his mind as currently designated to the young family; a husband, wife and young baby. They had been trying to flee the city in their car, only to have another car thrown on top of it. The wife was crying silently, the baby was screaming, and the husband looked prepared to die to save his family. Since James engaged the robots that were approaching the car with the intent to kill, the family struggled to escape the mangled car.

With a roar of frustration and rage, James threw his left arm forward in a powerful punch aimed at the robot's perspective torso. He was standing on a pile of rubble, so he was level with the thing's chest. When he yanked his arm back, James locked his fingers around everything he could, and pulled it out with his fist. Once the strips of metal, cabling and wires were out of the robot's chest, it sparked before lifeless let falling to the ground. James looked at the fist of cording and robotic skeleton in his palm, and couldn't help it when his cheeks twitched up into a small smile.

Once James was sure the young family was out of the car and on their way to safety, he turned back to the battle. He hadn't been too thrilled when Anna told him she cranked his arm up as high as it could go, but now, ripping Ultron apart with his bare hands, James' didn't mind all that much.

"James! Jimmy! Baby—I need a little help here!"

Anna's yells were met with a growl that grew in James' chest. He grabbed the hood of a mangled car in his left hand, and hurled it like a massive metal frisbee. It hit the robot pursuing Anna square in the chest, and sent him flying back into the building, which crumbled completely around the robot.

James looked to his left and saw Anna, thankfully safe, laughing. He frowned a little as he watched her grab her stomach laughing.

"Sweetie, you now I love hangin' around you," Anna started out, putting a hand on her hip as she breathed rapidly under her blue bandana. "But _God_ I missed a good old fashioned fight!"

"Fighting robots on a floating chunk of Earth is old fashioned?" James asked, jumping down to the ground so he was level with Anna.

She laughed again, her eyes sparkling. "I dunno. Probably not. The _idea_ of fighting is pure, good ol' science fiction, though!"

James rapidly looked around when there was another loud crash. Anna turned to face it, allowing her partner to see the back of her jacket. His right hand slowly reached up and touched one of the hastily made lines on the jacket that made up the eight pointed star.

Anna felt his touch and smiled. She looked over her shoulder, and gave him a coy little look. "Can't have Ultron thinkin' I'm a civilian, now, can we?"

* * *

It was only after the helicarrier rose into the sky that the other Avengers found out Anna and James were on the floating city too. Anna somehow coordinated with Natasha, and they managed to bring down a building on top of 15 or more robots. They high-fived when it was down.

James was close by, but chose to take on robots by himself; Anna knew he'd do that. Literally ripping through the bad guys and letting out as many primal sounds as he wanted as he threw a punch would do him good. He needed to be able to lose control now and then, and really use the power behind the metallic monstrosity HYDRA gave him.

He'd just thrown the head of an Ultron-bot at another, when the ground he was standing on (well, the large pile of rubble he was standing on) shifted. James was very vocal as he fought, but he didn't utter a single word as he fell thirty-plus feet, landed on uneven cement littered with metal shavings and glass, and had several pieces fall on himself.

The robot he'd been fighting had lost an arm to him (someone else took care of his legs), and was coming towards James. He pulled and fought at the rubble over himself. Part of his mind said he should call for help, but he didn't. James was the Winter Soldier; the Winter Soldier didn't call for help. The robot was closer now, and wound a fist back to throw a fatal punch. James managed to get his left arm free, and shot it out to grab the metal fist heading towards his head. Metal clacked, slid and mechanisms groaned on both arms as they pressed harder against each other.

Grunting, and gritting his teeth in concentration and pain, James' fractured mind got out a small mental plea; _Please help me_.

Before James could scold himself for the plea, which the other side of him saw as weak, the robot was yanked away by swirls of red mist. The mist seeped into the robot, then plodded inside it, tearing it apart. Once the metal, armless, legless man as taken care of, the red mist went after the rubble on top of James. He scrambled to his feet quickly, and looked around to see what rescued him.

To his left, there was a young woman in red, with dark hair. Her eyes glowed red, and the mist swirled around her daintily held hands and fingers. James recognized her as one of the enhanced twins Anna showed him pictures of. She was the one who could get inside your head and make you see things. When James realized this, he immediately began to backpedal a few steps, stumbling a few steps back in the rubble in an attempt to get away from her. His expression became guarded and his nostrils flared in aggression. Wanda got the message, mostly because she saw into his mind; his mind was an animalistic wall of survival instinct that told Wanda _he_ wouldn't even think of coming after _her_ if she stayed away from him. She nodded once, and after a moment, James did the same.

They parted after that, running in two different directions.

* * *

Anna leaned heavily on an alley wall, a hand grabbing over her thigh, where blood was seeping through her ripped tactical pants. She'd jumped off a, somehow still standing, two story building with the intent of landing on the backs of one of the robots. Instead, she jumped off the two story building and was batted out of the air like a bug and went through a window. It was already shattered, so she was spared the many cuts and bruises on her back of going through a window, but a shard dragged its way down her leg as she went through. Anna took off her bandana and tied it around her upper thigh as tight as she could.

"My thigh...Why the hell do I keep getting deep wounds in my goddamn thigh!" Anna hissed under her breath as she wedged a wadded up strip of shirt under the bandana and over the wound, putting added pressure to the wound.

A group of about twelve children ran past the entrance to the alley. Anna couldn't help but smile as James jogged behind them, telling them to go to the helicarrier.

When he saw Anna leaning heavily on the wall, blood dripping from her leg, he went to her quickly. As James assessed Anna, Anna assessed James. His flesh arm looked torn up, bloody, and half dislocated, but that didn't stop him from reaching for the bandana around Anna's thigh, untying it and trying it twice as tight. She let out a half-grunt, half-hiss in pain, and grabbed onto James' shoulder to steady herself.

"Warn a girl next time, ok?" Anna half-laughed through her panting. James didn't say anything, he just put his bloodied hand on Anna's upper arm, looking at her intensely.

"Hey," she said, getting James back to Earth, as she took off her jacket. "I know you don't want to, but we need to get on one of those life boats to the helicarrier.

Anna tied to arms of her jacket together, making a loop, and tossed it over James' head. He hissed through clenched teeth as she lifted his flesh arm up and put it in the makeshift sling over his chest. Once she was done, Anna put a hand over his cheek, still covered with the bandana.

"But there are still people-"

"Hey, Jimmy, baby, James, you need to listen to me," Anna said, her voice shaking slightly. "Both of us are hurt, we're outgunned, I'm out of practice-" Anna cut herself off when James' brows furrowed. "We'll help people on the way, but I need to get on that ship. _We_ need to get on that ship, ok? Will you help me do that? P-Please? Jimmy, honey, help me do that?"

James could see the pleading look in her eye, and the pinched expression on Anna's face. While the pleading look was new, the pinched expression of pain James knew well. Anna had that expression a lot during the ten months she was laid up from her gunshot wound.

He desperately wanted to stay. James couldn't care less of he was hurt; he wanted to get as many people to safety as he could. James wanted to _save people_. That being said, the most important person for him to save was Anna.

Anna was Bucky's whole world. After James read the letter Sergeant Barnes wrote to his darlin' girl, James saw that Anna was his whole world too. He couldn't even begin to comprehend a world where he was free from HYDRA and Anna wasn't with him.

Since his right, flesh arm was painfully resting in a sling made from Anna's jacket, James had no choice but to wrap his metal arm around Anna's waist. He ducked down slightly to let Anna pull an arm over his shoulders. Once she fisted a good grip on his tactical jacket, James straightened as much as she could and still let Anna have a decent footing on the ground. Anna's other hand crossed her chest and turned her body slightly, grabbing the front of his jacket to help her stand straight. James wanted nothing more than to swoop an arm down and pick Anna up as if she were a princess, but he couldn't do that with only one arm.

The pair, bloody, battered and limping, made their way to the helicarrier. They would pause now and then for James to hurl something at one of the bots so trapped people could go free. Anna leaned heavily on James as she lost more and more blood from her leg, and James' well trained battle mindset was pushing back the dazed feeling, and the feeling of a blood soaked sling against his chest.

The former S.H.I.E.L.D., volunteers didn't give the two a second glance; they just ushered them into the life boat. James found a corner between the side of the boat and the bench of seats, and collapsed there, bringing Anna with him. After a moment or two of finding the least painful way to sit, James let his body go mostly slack, and he felt Anna pass out on his shoulder. James held the blonde tightly to his chest with his left arm. Normally he would be hesitant, worried and close to panicked about the idea of holding Anna close with his left arm, let alone after she tinkered with it and prevented it from self-regulating the strength it put out. Exsanguination finally succeeded in hazing his brain.

James lolled his head so it was pressed to Anna's head. He awkwardly reached up and yanked the bandana down so it hung around his neck; he like the feeling of Anna's silky hair against his skin. She was out cold, so she didn't feel the shaky breath her honey let out. James breathed her in; the weight of her body on his, the muffled thumping of her heart, the way her hair smelled like dust, smoke, sweat, and that exotic shampoo she insisted on using to keep her hair straight.

"I love you," James mumbled into her hair. "I do, Anna...And-And I know what it means now."

* * *

Emilia spun around quickly, and as she did, time seemed to slow down. All the gypsy girl could hear was her ragged breathing, her pounding heart, and the scream that ripped from her throat. She'd insisted on being with Pietro at all times. She said it was because they could take out more of Ultron's robots, and refused to really say anything else on the matter.

She wanted to stay with Pietro so she wouldn't see what she was seeing now; his bloody body falling to the ground.

The gypsy girl threw all her energy into kinetic, and was at his side before his chest hit the dirt.

Kára had stopped dead when she felt a worthy soul leave the present; that was the same second Emilia screamed. The Valkyrie dropped her spear and shield.

Emilia skidded to the ground, half on her stomach, and put a hand on Pietro's face. There wasn't any energy pulsing from his heart. His heart wasn't beating. The worst part of Emilia being so close to his face, was seeing his eyes. Even through their differences, Emilia had always admired his eyes; they were a vibrant blue-green that glittered when he smirked, which was _all the time_. They were open and unblinking now, looking, but not seeing, Emilia's crying face. She punched herself up, and pressed her palms to his back, her head lolling forward as she cried harder as she tried to find any lasting energy inside him.

She _knew_. Emilia _knew_ Pietro Maximoff's final outcome as death, and she couldn't save him. She'd stuck by his side, something worth noting because of how _irritating_ he could be, and she still wasn't able to save him.

There was another little sister in the world with out a big brother.

And there was a gypsy girl who could never say sorry.

Time had slowed for both Kára and Emilia as the bullets ripped through Pietro Maximoff. In an instant, it sped up again.

It had been less than two seconds since the Sokovian speedster had pushed Hawkeye and the young boy he held to safety.

Kára's weapons had hardly touched the ground when she took off into the sky. The high pitched sound, followed by an ear splitting crack, signaled that the Valkyrie was gone.

* * *

Pietro inhaled the scent of clean country air. Grass tickled his face and neck as the cool, gentle breeze ruffled his hair.

"Take a hike, Isaac. I'll help him through it."

"Why in the world would I let _you_ assist him in understand what happened? I may as well let a rabid bear help him! I am the commanding officer, so this is _hardly_ worth discussing."

"Yeah, and I'm sure this young guy from modern times would want some _uppity Brit_ explaining this all to him...And I'm older, so _there_."

"Pfft!...You are such a _child_!"

"Explain what?" Pietro asked into the grass. The two voices, one American and one English, stopped bickering.

The blond raised his head from the grass and pinched his eyes shut when bright sunlight attacked his face. Prepared this time, Pietro pushed himself up and looked at his surroundings. The bright sun that blinded him came from a cloudless blue sky. The cool, smooth grass that brushed his face was part of a lush field of rolling green hills that rippled like water in the breeze. Groupings of people basked in the sunlight, walked through the grass and converted quietly in the shade of sporadic trees. To his far left, there was a magnificent gold building.

"Where am I?" Pietro demanded, getting to his feet as he glared at the two men.

"Sorry to tell 'ya, but you're dead, brother," the American-voiced man said with a friendly chuckle and a sympathetic smile. He had close cropped black hair, tanned skin and dark eyes; Pietro recognized some of the man's features as being from the Pacific islands, like Hawaii (Wanda had repeatedly watched a movie set there when she was 13). He wore the fatigues and boots Pietro associated with the US Army.

" _What?_ "

The Englishman scoffed and crossed his arms. He wore a more vintage uniform in an olive green, and had slightly longer, neatly combed, brown hair. The uniform he wore brought forth memories of half-read textbooks from history classes and pictures depicting the Second World War. "Oh, just _wonderful_ work, lieutenant. You've succeeded in scaring him into _farther into death._ "

"I'm not scared!" Pietro bit out. " _Where am I?_ "

"I'm Captain Isaac Andrews of the Second Tank Division," the Englishman introduced himself. "This _brash_ sargent is Nathan Clarke."

"Hey, who you callin' brash, crumpet-muncher?"

" _ **Where am I?**_ " Pietro demanded for a third time, getting more anxious than angry.

"What are you, Catholic? Lutheran?" Sgt. Clarke asked. He was much more relaxed than the captain, and grinned lazily at Pietro as he waited for an answer.

"Roman Catholic," Pietro mumbled, unsure of where this conversation was going.

"Oh, cool, my brother-in-law was Roman Catholic. He kinda sounded like you too, he was from Romania," Nathan continued. "Well, he was an _Orthodox_ Roman Catholic."

Pietro, who was fully terrified, nodded numbly.

"Well buddy, welcome to Heaven!" Nathan announced with a grin, throwing his arms out wide.

"Not exactly, Sargent," Isaac sighed. "See, we are in a sect of Heaven designated for those who died while fighting to save others and the greater good."

" _Soldiers_ ," Pietro breathed out, looking around the field again. He realized he was rubbing the spot just under his shoulder that a bullet had ripped through, and abruptly dropped his hand to his side.

"Damn right! We're all soldiers here," Nathan chuckled. "I kicked it and ended up here during Desert Storm, mid-90s, I think. Jumped on a landmine to save my squad."

Isaac nodded along with the short story, and frowned when Nathan nudged his arm and glanced at Pietro. The captain sighed, then said "I was caught in a gas attack in 1940."

"So, how'd you end up here, brother?" Nathan asked Pietro.

"I...I was shot," the Sokovian boy responded quietly. "I-...I think I pushed a man and kid out of the way...and I was shot..."

"The memories of your death will clear with time," Isaac offered.

"How...I-I'm not-"

"Relax," the captain said in a less stern tone. "What's your name?"

"...Pietro..."

"Pietro, the quicker you come to terms with what I'm about to tell you, the faster you will assimilate," Isaac paused and put a hand on his shoulder. "You deserve to be here, you are a hero. You may grieve for your friends and family as they grieve for you, but it was your time and yours alone. Take a deep breath, close your eyes, and feel the never ending life that you will have here."

The blond did just that. He took a few steps away from the oddly paired army men, closed his eyes, and began to take deep breaths. He couldn't deny that he felt better than he had in years; no aching muscles, racing heart, panting lungs or a stiff neck. In fact, he felt like he could run forever and not feel tired, at the same time, he felt relaxed enough to sit in the shade of a tree and doze to his heart's content. He snapped his eyes open when a question came up in his mind.

"What about my parents? They died years ago, can I see them?"

"Give it time, brother," Nathan said, shrugging. "Once you've been here a decade or two, you'll find the little secret passages to the other parts of Heaven. You're not peaceful enough inside right now to get through one'a the doors in one piece."

Pietro nodded simply, then thought of his sister. For almost all their lives, they only had each other. Now Pietro was alone in Heaven and Wanda was along on Earth. One Maximoff twin was alone in death, the other in life.

Oddly enough, Pietro's mind conjured up an image of Emilia Dalca next. They met when the gypsy girl threatened to kill him in Wakanda, Emilia befriended his sister, and then they created as odd friendship over a pear and tarot cards in a kitchen late at night. A conversation they had on the plan stood in his mind.

 _Pietro eyed the bottle of water in Emilia's hands. "Mind if I have a drink of that?"_

 _The gypsy girl shrugged, and held the plastic bottle out to him. Emilia watched as Pietro drank from the water bottle, and gave him a look that Pietro almost saw as mournful. "What?" He asked, taking the bottle down from his mouth and wiping his lips and chin with the back of his hand._

 _Emilia blinked once, and her expression turned from sad to coy, mischievous and oddly flirtatious. "Have you heard the myth about drinking the same water as a gypsy with the gift?"_

 _Pitro quickly matched her flirtatious tone and expression, curious more than anything else about where Emilia was taking the conversation. "No, I haven't."_

" _Well, they say that if you drink from the same water as a gypsy with the gift, and that gypsy kisses you three times, you will always have good luck, so long as that gypsy is with you."_

 _His interest was fully peaked at this point, Pietro leaned towards Emilia slightly. "Do you have the gypsy gift, draga?" He asked, making Emilia roll her eyes; the Russian term of endearment was a bit much._

" _Of course I do, how could you think different?" Emilia teased back, leaning towards Pietro the same way he leaned towards her._

 _The pair remained close to one another for a good five seconds. Pietro saw sadness flicker in Emilia's eyes again. He frowned, and lowly murmured "What's wrong, kotik?" in Romanian._

 _This term of endearment made Emilia's lip twitch. She responded by slowly revising her hands up to rest on either side of Pietro's face. The chiffon cuffs of her over shirt tickled his neck, and Emilia's fingers gently pressed into Pietro's cheeks. The scratchy, darkened stubble along his jaw was rough against Emilia's fingers. The Sokovian boy was confused by the brunette's actions, and chose to remain still until she let him go._

 _Pietro got only more confused, but oddly excited, when Emilia leaned closer still, and pressed a kiss to his left cheek. She turned his head slightly, and pressed a second kiss to his right cheek. The second kiss was much closer to his mouth than the first; the corner of her mouth grazed his lips. Pietro sat in anticipation for the third kiss, which he boyishly hoped would be on his lips._

 _Instead, Emilia leaned back and released his face. Her hands fell to his lap and wrapped around one of his hands. His face clearly showed disappointment he felt, and Emilia smiled a little._

" _ **When the battle if over, sweetheart,**_ _" Emilia mumbled in Romanian, in a tone with just the slightest bit of embarrassment. "_ _ **Now you**_ **really** _**have something to fight for.**_ _"_

_-~oO0Oo~-_

A sharp, loud sound, followed by a bellowing, hollow _Bang!_ pulled Pietro from his memories. He looked around, and was shocked to see Kára walking towards him and the two Army men.

Pietro was stunned. The archer had explained to both twins that Kára was a little less than human, but seeing her in full Valkyrie dress was _breathtaking_. She donned a short metal plated gown, which had hundreds of hammered gold plates that moved like the sea of grass around her, like the scales of a snake. Her massive wings were stretched out wide, and her blonde waves spilled from under her him and tumbled down her shoulders.

"C'mon! We don't have much time!" Kára yelled at him. Only then did Pietro realize that she was running towards him.

"What?" He sputtered out.

Kára pushed Nathan and Isaac aside, and grabbed Pietro's shoulders. "Look, I'm breaking all sorts of universal rules now, so _listen to me_."

"You're dead now, you know that? I'm going to bring you back down to Earth. I need you to close your eyes, and think of everything you have to live for," Kára half-yelled at him. "Wanda, some Sokovian girlfriend you had when you were sixteen, Emilia—I don't care what you think about, as long as it's powerful."

Pietro closed his eyes like the Valkyrie told him to.

"Will it hurt?" He whispered weakly. Pietro always thought death would be painful, but it really wasn't. Would being yanked back into life be painful?

"No idea," Kára admitted quickly. "Never done this before."

"Why are you giving him a second chance?" Nathan butted in. He didn't sound mad, not at all; he was curious and hopeful.

"I spent hundreds of years pulling thousands of you worthy men into Valhalla, and lots of them were way too fuckin' early. I'm sick of everything on that goddamn blue and green rock being unfair. I don't have a god looking over my shoulder anymore, so I can do something about it," Kára snapped. "Ready?" She asked Pietro in the same breath.

"Hey, good luck, brother," Nathan said, clapping Pietro on his shoulder.

"Best of luck...Don't you dare waste your time down there, or I'll be very cross with you when you get back," Isaac said in her stern tone, but it was sentimental at the same time.

"Ready," Pietro said quietly.

Kára began to fly back to Earth, dragging Pietro's soul with her.

* * *

It'd been less than five seconds since bullets ripped through Pietro's body.

Clint and the young boy he was protecting hadn't even gotten up yet.

Emilia was still on the ground next to his body, letting out scream-like sobs into his shoulder blades.

A sharp whistle signaled that Kára was making a return to Earth, and Emilia looked up and around to see where she was going to land.

There was a great big crash, and Kára ended up rolling painfully on the ground, and skidded to a stop. The Valkyrie looked like she'd lost a fight with Godzilla. She propped herself up on her elbows, and yelled in a cracked, broken voice. " _Give 'im all you've got!_ "

Emilia didn't need to be asked twice. She put her hands on Pietro's back, over his lungs, perspectively, and breathed out everything she had. Every spark of energy Emilia purged from her body and pushed onto Pietro.

It only took a second for his blue eyes to light up again.

Emilia fell limply next to Pietro in the dirt, facing him, and her breathing was labored and shallow.

Pietro was weak, but alive. He blinked a few times, and saw Emilia next to him. His brows furrowed in confusion, and he attempted to speak to her. All that came out were some little gasps.

Emilia gave a shaky smile, and reached towards his hand, which was limp by his face. She had to drag her fingers across the cold ground, and weakly took his fingers with hers. Then, she dragged his hand towards herself.

Her prediction was wrong. Pietro's final outcome showed death, and Emilia thought it was predicting his own death. Emilia was wrong.

Pietro's final outcome was witnessing _her_ death.

Emilia closed her eyes, and used the rest of her strength to bring Pietro's hand to her lips. They pressed to the backs of Pietro's clammy hands desperately, then fell limply to the ground again.

"Wh-Wha...?" Pietro breathed out, confused and scared by Emilia's actions.

The gypsy girl worked hard to get enough air into her wheezing lungs to speak. He could see the slow, dramatic rise and fall of her chest.

"Now...I-I'll always..." Emilia labored to get out, a sad smile on her face. She inhaled again, and got the sentence out.

"Now I'll...always...be with you."

Pietro didn't know what happened to himself, or what happened to Emilia, but he didn't like how she said that. He also didn't like how he could see the color fading from her face and the light fading from her eyes. He squeezed her hand, trying to elicit a reaction from her, but she just looked at him with blurry eyes.

"E-Emilia..." He managed to get out, his throat constricting. He didn't want to see her die. Pietro _did not_ want to see this girl die.

" _Voi fi mereu cu tine._ " Emilia whispered, then she closed her eyes.

Pietro recognised the Romanian, and he felt a tear leave his eye. Emilia didn't inhale again.

 _I'll always be with you_.


	39. Chapter 39: On The Helicarrier

**I'm home sick from school today, my cupcakes, so you guys get a chapter!**

 **I struggled with some aspects of this chapter, but I think it came together pretty well. ANYTHING you cupcakes have to say will be appreciated and taken into consideration! Wanna know what that means? It means I want your reviews! ;)**

 **Love you to crumbs!**

 **~Christianne**

* * *

 ***This chapter is only about 75% edited***

* * *

Omniscient POV

Steve had fought with Ellie the whole way to the tiny Eastern European country. She wanted to fight, and he wanted her to stay in a safe place, away from the fighting. When Ellie woke up in a hospital bed in Avengers Tower, she felt better than she had in a long, _long_ time; she felt in control. The rest of the team were just fine letting Steve make the decision if Ellie should go out and fight or stay behind with TJ. He was firm in his choice, making Ellie stay on the sidelines, but she managed to change his mind when soft spoken, sweet, small, shy Ellie _yelled_ at him. Ellie _never_ raised her voice; and judging by what happened next, it was good that she didn't. All the glass around Ellie shattered; the glass hung in the air and until she was done. Then, they flew back into place and fused back together. After the little show, Steve had no choice but to let Ellie come to Sokovia; it didn't, however, stop him from trying to urge her to stay behind him the entire duration of the fight. But in the end, Ellie's desire to help overshadowed Steve's desire to keep her safe.

Now, the shy little brunette and the protective blond were sleeping against each other in a quieter place in the helicarrier; it wouldn't have really mattered if it was quiet, though, since the pair was utterly exhausted from the fighting. The captain was leaning back in his seat, with his head resting on the vibrating metal wall, and had one hand on the shield at his side. Ellie had her back pressed to his side, knees pulled up to her chest, one arm wrapped around them and the other curled around Steve's muscular arm. He'd pulled Ellie closer to him and slung a lazy arm over her shoulders when she mentioned she was cold. She didn't object to the slight snuggling, and contently fell asleep with her head on Steve's shoulder. They were the only Avenger's sleeping.

Natasha, after taking a few pictures of Ellie and Steve, was behind a computer. She, with the help of TJ, was trying to locate the green scientist that slipper through Tasha's fingers, Barton was working with volunteers to put the families back together; he currently held the hand of a six-year-old girl as he looked for her father. Nobody needed to ask where Wanda was; they knew she was with Pietro and Emilia. Kára had shed her Valkyrie armor, and was working with the overwhelmed, volunteer medical staff. Since S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't hold the power it once did, they had to a little more in depth paperwork if the people in the life boats wanted to gain refugee status. Each person needed to have an extensive on-tablet forms filled out, and then be checked out for injuries.

Thor was the only Avenger not occupied at the moment. He made a call to Jane to ensure her safety, and to prove to her that he was, in fact, in one piece. After that, the god wandered. He helped with small tasks as he passed through the halls, and found himself at the door leading to the docked life boats.

The small rescue aircraft, still filled with people, were securely docked to the underside of the helicarrier, but exposed on one side. The docking station was meant to leave quickly from the helicarrier; holding traumatized, now homeless people wasn't part of the original design.

The god was going to move one, but a thought crossed his mind. Thor contacted TJ and Kára to ask if Anna had been found. They both confirmed that she had yet to go through the doors to the medical and registration bay. The dock had a strong breeze blowing through it; strong enough to make Thor reach up and brush back some of his long blond hair. He stepped onto the first life boat and maneuvered around the people, many of whom were on the ground sleeping. Thor stopped now and then to pull a blanket nearly on the floor up over the sleeping body it fell from, or gave a shy child watching him from under an arm of a sleeping parent. The first two life boats didn't prove successful in his search for Anna.

On the third, though, something caught the god's eye. A pile of dark clothing, limbs, a shock of blonde hair and a hint of a blue bandana were in a heap in the corner. Thor approached the corner slowly, and frowned; the blonde woman had a blood stained bandana tied tightly around an equally bloody leg.

The god stopped close to the woman he thought to be Anna, and leaned down to a knee. To examine her. Thor, his focus solely on the blonde, reached a hand forward to pull hair away from the woman's face. He hoped it as Anna. It would put everyone at ease to know that their dear friend was alive.

His fingertips had just brushed the blonde locks when a strong metal hand shot out and grabbed Thor's wrist.

Thor looked to the face of the man, or _thing_ , that grabbed him. The metal hand made the god think of the robots they'd only just fought. Thor wondered if they'd missed one of Ultron's robotic bodies; had the lone survivor taken Anna? He tried to see the shadowed face, expecting to find a synthetic face of metal.

He didn't.

Thor saw a sunken, pale, sweaty face of a dark haired man. He was trying to portray himself as strong, intimidated, even, but the man's eyes betrayed him. The blue orbs, the only bright feature on his face, were begging for help. They were a helpless blue, sparking with an animalistic alertness, but portrayed a protectiveness that was so intense and sincere it surprised Thor.

Slowly, the metal hand released the god's wrist. It opened and closed several times after that, flexing and clacking, metallic plates scraping against one another. Then, he reached up and brushed away some of Anna's blonde hair away from her unconscious face. It revealed a tense face, as pale, pained and sweaty as his.

The metal hand came to rest on Anna's shoulder with such tenderness, something Thor didn't expect to see from such a crude, destructive tool.

The man licked his dry lips and clenched his jaw in preparation to speak.

"Hel-...Help her," the blue-eyed, dark haired man rasped out. "Please...Jus-Just help her."

Thor listened to the man's voice almost shake as he begged for help, not for himself, but for the unconscious blonde in his arms. He didn't ask for help for himself, which he seemed to be in need of; the man's right arm was off-kilter and bloody, hanging limply in a makeshift sling.

"Who are you?" Thor asked cautiously. He needed to know who was holding Anna so tight before he did anything.

The man looks down at Anna's unconscious face, and his metal thumb began to rub along her shoulder. "She-She calls me James..." He answered eventually. "I...I have another na-name, though..."

"What other name are you known by?" The god asked, already trying to place this man's face in his mind.

The man's blue/gray eyes met Thor's hard gaze. His eyes were wide and his lips were trembling as he formed the single word he breathed out.

"... _Bucky_."

* * *

James slowly regained consciousness, and was vaguely aware that the pain in his right arm had dulled. He twitched the flesh limb at his side, and his lip twitched from the streak of pain that shot up his shoulder. His metal hand crossed his torso to grasp his right bicep, and pinched his eyes shut, trying to force the pain away.

Someone in the room cleared their throat.

The simple sound elicited a significant response from James. The dark haired man shot up from the hospital-like bed he was in, and began looking around the room wildly. Monsters and machines around him went wild, letting out shrill beeps that matched his heart rate. James looked down at himself briefly; he wore a black t-shirt that was a bit small on his broad torso and exposed his left arm, and similarly designed sweatpants. There was a tube and wire going into the back of his right hand, which James promptly grabbed and ripped from his skin.

By now, the man who'd cleared his throat had began to talk, trying to explain what was happening and where James was, but that only seemed to make him more agitated. James fought with the cheaply made blankets on the hospital (which creaked with every jolting move) and soon James had tumbled to the floor. After landing hard, James got himself to the corner of the room. He pressed his metal limb into the junction of the two walls and curled in on himself, eyes tightly shut again.

"I mean you no harm," Thor said in a steady voice.

"Where is she?" James whispered, but he wanted to yell. "Where is she? Where-Where's Anna?"

"Your lady is there," Thor said in the same slow voice, pointing through a glass wall. "Come, perhaps seeing her will calm you."

Slowly, James stood from the floor, his metal arm shamefully exposed and hanging by his side. He approached the tall, long haired blond man cautiously, and stopped about six feet from the start of the glass along the wall. Thor was briefly confused, then took a step backwards; as he thought he would, James took a mirrored step forward. They continued to keep the same distance between themselves until James could see through the glass.

As the god had said, Anna was there, on an identical hospital bed as he'd woken up in. She had a thick bandage around her thigh. Her head lolled to the side, her eyes closed, as machines beeped and blinked around her.

Faster than Thor expected, James was at the door. He gave the handle a firm push and pull (with his metal hand), confirming his assumption that it was locked. Then, James returned to the glass wall, and both of his palms on it. The metal one made a series of clacks on the glass. Thor saw a metal fist form on the clear material, and was _just_ able catch it in the air before it slammed into the window.

"I would advise against breaking that glass, Bucky," Thor said, just before a knee was jammed in his ribs. He acted on instinct, yanking the caught arm back to an unnatural position; not that it did much good, since it wasn't a natural appendage. The brunet let out a throaty, growl-like sound from his throat; he snapped his metal arm out of Thor's grasp and threw it forward into his nose.

The pair parted, both in stances to fight again. Thor wiped blood from his upper lip, and James was grasping his upper left arm tightly, trying to force some of the workings back into place.

"It is there for her protection as much as it is for yours," Thor added to his statement, a stressed calm in his voice. "We did not know your reaction to waking here."

"You...You think I'd _hurt her_?" James asked softly. His face was down to the floor, his lengthy hair covered most of his features, so it was difficult for Thor to asses his expression. He slowly raised his face enough to show the horrified look. "I...Nev-Never-..." James finally met Thor's gaze fully, and the god was, again, surprised, and how sincerely terrified the other man seemed about harming Anna.

"...S-Sorry..." James mumbled, looking past Thor at Anna. The caught the god's expression in his peripheral vision, and glanced his way before looking at his metal palm, which was twitching uncomfortably. "I...I hit y-your nose...Sorry."

Thor chuckled, grinning widely. "It's nothing, my friend. Should we ever really battle, you are a worthy opponent."

"Friend," James blurted out, staying rooted in spot. "You-...You called me...f- _friend_." The question was asked so innocently, and was followed by a curious question. "Why?"

Thor shrugged. "A friend of Anna is a friend of mine. At the very least, you are not an enemy."

There was a heavy pause.

"Do...Do you know what I-I've _done_?" James asked slowly, almost afraid to know the answer.

"Yes, I am aware of your past with HYDRA," Thor confirmed.

"...Why-Why do you believe me?" James asked in a near whisper. "Why do you think I-I wouldn't...hu-hurt her?"

The god took his time answering. "I saw the look in your eye as you held her, Bucky," Thor said, watching how the other man flinched at his own name. "Any harm that would come to Anna by you would be unintentional, I am sure of it."

James' heart greedily took in the confident words given to him, and he came close to smiling. Instead, he chose to look at the floor. Someone had taken his shoes and socks, leaving his bare feet on the acrylic floor.

"Th-Thank you," he mumbled quickly, going to the door again. When he pulled the knob this time, it turned.

There was nobody in the hall, but James kept his head down and his body close to the wall. Anna's door should have been directly next to his. When he reached for the door, James stopped short; he made sure to grasp the handle with his right hand so his left didn't make a clacking sound that would echo through the hallway.

The door was opened just enough to made sure it was in fact Anna's room. When James saw the unconscious blonde, he entered to room and shut the door tightly behind him; he felt for a lock, but didn't find one. James didn't approach Anna's bed right away, instead, he stayed by the door to observe the room.

The wall they shared appeared to the an opaque, milky white glass instead of the clear clear glass it appeared to be from James' side. The idea of being unable to see who, if anybody, was watching the made James' stomach churn. Slowly, he approached the small panel on the wall. He pressed a random button on the screen, and watched the milky glass turn clear. He knew there was hardly a chance of it being another allusion, going by how the room he saw was in the same state of disarray he'd left it in. After being sure he wasn't being watched, James went to Anna's hospital bed. When he was a few steps away, James' knees weakened and buckled, and he fell to them as soon as he knew he could catch himself on Anna's bed.

James was tall enough, and the bed was low enough, that his arms could be up on the mattress in somewhat comfortably and his knees on the ground. His head bowed forward, his hair covering his face. Both fists, metal and flesh, grabbed at the scratchy sheets that covered Anna's body in an attempt to control himself.

He wished Anna was awake. She would be able to get his head back in the right place; James never understood how she was able to do that to him so easily. As he thought about it, he pressed his cheek to the mattress, eyes to Anna.

" _Wake up, Anna_ ," James whispered in warbling Russian, even though he knew Anna would respond better to English. He pinched his eyes shut when they started to sting; he'd had that feeling before, and didn't like it at all. " _Wake up...Wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up...Glow...Please wake up._ "

* * *

When Thor found Anna and Bucky, he had Kára wake the captain. Steve had been standing behind TJ since Thor explained why he'd woken both him and Ellie.

"Can you tell if he's saying anything?" Steve asked the tech.

"A.L.I.C.E. doesn't have the angle needed for the lip reading software," TJ explained, typing rapidly. "Well, there was a camera that _had_ that angle, but you told me to get rid of it."

"It was too obvious," Steve respond simply. "In...In his mental state, I don't think Bucky would like too many eyes on him."

TJ nodded, but couldn't help but frown. He was on the team that set up the security in the helicarrier (not that he got much credit), and his personality didn't react well to change like that. "If Anna says anything it'll read, but unless Bu-...Barn-...unless _he_ turns his head, nuthin' he says will read to A.L.I.C.E."

Steve nodded, and continued to look at the screen. Bucky somehow looked better and worse than when he saw him in DC a year or so ago. His cheeks and eyes didn't seem so sunken and hollow like they had; Anna must have been shoveling food down his throat constantly. But the last time Steve saw his best friend, he didn't look anywhere near as broken and desperate, again, this was a good and bad, because it meant Anna was helping him get his humanity back, and bad because it was painful and gut-wrenching to watch.

"How long 'till Annie wakes up?" The captain asked.

"About 45 minutes," TJ shrugged after looking quickly through the file. "Kára hoped she dosed him enough so that he'd wake up after Anna."

"But, instead, he woke up almost an hour before?" Steve asked, skeptical.

TJ nodded. "She dosed him like she would you, apparently. I guess his metabolism is more wrapped up than yours."

Again, Steve just nodded and crossed his arms. He continued to look at the screen, and saw how TJ's eyes flicked continuously from the footage of Bucky and Anna to a clock open in the corner of another screen. Needing a distraction, Steve asked "When did Helen get out of surgery?"

"About six hours ago," TJ said automatically. "The hospital broke its record for the longest surgery...16 hours..." He mumbled at the end, not taking his eyes of lines of code. "They told me I could call the ICU and Recovery Wing when I got word she was stable."

"Have you heard from them?" The captain asked. He knew TJ was sweet on the Doctor, and with how worried he was about _everything_ , the tech must've been a wreck inside.

"Yeah...'bout fifteen minutes ago...They were able to save her right arm, all the nerves, repair a fractured collarbone and torn artery, and fix her burns so there should be minimal scarring. She has a temporary filter in her bronchial artery, though. Ultron's blasters packed more of an unpurified punch than Tony's, but that's what happens when an idiot tries to replicate the work down by a genius...a cocky, arrogant genius."

The captain couldn't hold in a small smile when TJ mumble the last few words.

"Hey, go call Seoul," Steve said a beat later. "I'll keep an eye on them." TJ spun around quick in his chair and looked up at Steve with wide, surprised eyes. The captain smiled. "C'mon, I'm 98, but I can handle a computer just fine."

Grinning, TJ jumped up from his chair and left the room, struggling to get the sat. phone out of the pocket of his cargo pants.

Steve sighed, smiling briefly, then took TJ's place behind the monsters. "C'mon Annie...Open your eyes, wake up, Annie," the blonde said under his breath.

* * *

James had fallen into a state of half-consciousness as he knot by Anna's bed. He was, actually, nearing sleep when he felt a groggy movement under his flesh hand; the one he'd put over Anna's. Once he scrambled to his feet so he could see her face, James waited patiently for his Glow to open her eyes. He kept his hand in hers.

A minute or two later, Anna's brown eyes opened. Her lids were heavy and her gaze was drowsy. Lazily, her lips moved into a sleepy smile as she saw the man next to her. "Hey there...Jimmy baby..."

"Hi," James breathed out quietly, his eyes wide as he looked down at her. "You-You weren't waking up."

"Yeah..." Anna said, blinking her eyes several times in an effort to stay awake. "They...They had to...knock me out...for-for surgery." Anna was still out of it and tired; she only spoke on the exhale.

James simply nodded, watching the blonde lazily move her muscles and joints under the blanket. A warbled whimper left her lips when she twitched her hurt leg, and the sound made James' knees weak again. He, again, fell to the floor and retook his position with his arms on Anna's bed and his face buried in the sheet.

"I-I can't-c-...I can't be here, Anna," James shakily mumbled, his breathing became ragged.

Her limbs felt heavy and uncoordinated, but Anna managed to get a hand on James' neck. Her thumb brushed over his neck and her fingers sloppily moved back and forth in his hair. "Calm down...James...As soon...as we can...we'll get...outta here."

"They won't let me leave with you."

"Hey...says who?" Anna asked, her voice had taken on a slightly dreamy tone that James attributed to the drip of clear liquid that drizzled through the tube and entered Anna's arm. "Who said that...Jimmy? Why do...you think...they'd make...us...separate?"

"Why wouldn't they?" He whispered back in his shaky tone. "They don't care about me...They care about you, though. They won't let you leave with me 'cause they know what I could do to you."

"Stop that," Anna insisted as firmly as she could, even thought she was fighting to stay awake; she didn't know what James would do in this environment if she suddenly became unresponsive. "We've been...runnin' 'round...the world to-...togther, for...for more than...a year...If you...you were gonna hurt me..." Anna paused to take some breaths. "Don't 'ya think...you'd'a...done it...by now?"

James turned his head just enough to see Anna.

"And...I'll...be damned...if anybody...but the Good...Lord him-...himself...is gonna tell...me...who I can...and can't...save the...world with," Anna added, trying to lighten the mood; it was suffocating. James' lips twitched just enough to be considered a smile (for _him_ , that is).

The brief twitch of his lips made relief, as well as drowsiness, wash over Anna. She pulled her heavy hand from the side of James' neck to his cheek. He turned his face so his lips brushed the inside of her wrist. His eyes pinched shut as he took ragged breaths. "Are you ok?" He asked quietly.

"I'm...Annabelle...Brightman...I'm always...ok," Anna said smugly, giving a dazed smile.

"Not _always_ ," James countered into her hand.

" _Yes_... **always** ," Anna mumbled, a bigger smile on her face.

"Now...you gotta...promise me...sumthin'...ok, Jimmy?" Anna asked, her eyes closing. "I'm gonna-I'm gonna go...back to sleep...for a while...ok? And you...need to...stay calm..."

"I will," James vowed.

"Think of...our song..." Anna sighed, turning her head towards James. Her hand went slack against his face, so James caught it and held it there, not wanting to lose her tough.

"Our...Our song," James repeated, his brow furrowed.

Softly, Anna began to hum. James recalled the song instantly; it was the one they danced to, or tried to dance to, in Poland. Anna began to sing softly, her lips hardly moving. " _Try 'ta think, that love's not around...But it's uncomfortably near...My old heart, ain't gainin' no ground...Because my Angel Eyes...ain't here..._ "

* * *

"Yeah, and you're sure it's alright if I come visit you in a few days?" TJ asked. One of his hands was holding the sat. phone to his ear, and the other was lazily in his pocket of his cargo pants. The tech was talking with Helen Cho on the phone, hence the light blush that hadn't left his cheeks since she answered his call.

"I mean, I get it if you want to just rest and heal up for you see anybody, but I'd really like to see you—I mean, the whole team would like to see you, but I'd like to see you too-...Ok, I'll stop by in a day or two, so you can-...Alright, I'll book a flight tomorrow morn-... _Alright_!" TJ laughed, grinning. "I'll by a ticket right after I get off the phone with you...I mean, yeah, I'm famous enough for my multitasking, I guess, but, well, I want to give you my full attention."

As TJ spoke to the pretty Doctor, he was bashfully looking down at his sneakers as he scuffed them on the floor. He'd been ready to try his hardest to convince Helen so let him come see her, but it turns out that Helen was insistent on seeing TJ sooner than later; she wouldn't accept anything else.

Helen was telling TJ about the regenerative tissue that replaced her large burn. He didn't understand it all (his master's degree was in computer science, opposed to Helen's MD and Ph.D in genetics, biomechanics and medicine), but was eager to learn. He asked a lot of questions and soaked up the answers Helen so freely gave. She was telling TJ about how she noticed that she didn't have as much feeling as she did in her new tissue than in her original tissue; she planned to wait until all the pain medication wore off, run some tests, then start on a new operation too not only generate synthetic tissue, but nerves and nerve endings as well.

TJ was smiling as he listened to her, and ignored the buzzing that started on his tablet. He ignored the alert with a swipe of his hand without even looking at it. James B. Barnes the Third was speaking with a beautiful, smart, amazing woman (and she actually wanted to talk to him), and nothing less than Captain America running into the room, knocking him out with half a punch and dragging him away from the phone would stop TJ from talking to Helen; he may have been being dramatic, but situations like this presented themselves too far and too few between for TJ and he was going to make this one last.

When the tablet began to buzz again, TJ frowned and picked up the tablet. "Uh, just a second, Helen," he said, wedging the phone between his shoulder and cheek. He entered his passcode, and held the retinal scanner to his eye to unlock his tablet (some of Fury's paranoia had rubbed off on TJ during a five-months stint as his tech advisor), and opened the red, blinking message.

The S.H.I.E.L.D. data alert displayed made TJ give a strangled gasp.

" _TJ? Is something wrong?_ " Helen asked when TJ let out the sound, but didn't say anything after. " _Are you there yet? TJ?_ "

Remembering his was on the phone, TJ shook his head briefly to clear it, put his tablet down and ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, hey, Helen, I'm still here."

" _Is something wrong?_ " Ashe asked again.

"Uh...You know what? I don't. Maybe. Probably. Hopefully, it's nothing...Helen? Could I call you back in a minute or two?" TJ asked, nervously running his hands through his hair.

" _Call me back when you have booked your plane ticket to see me_ ," Helen responded smartly.

"Look, Helen, if this is something, then I might not me-"

" _TJ, I said call me back when you book your plane ticket to see me. The flight can be in three hours, or three weeks_ ," Helen said in her calm, soft voice. " _But, if this...event that has you so shaken up is dangerous...Book your ticket soon._ "

The brunette tech grinned widely at her words. Now he saw why Anna liked Dr. Cho so much; she was _smart_. It the academic way, and the funny way. "Yeah...Yeah, I'll do that, Helen."

" _Good_ ," she responded, a smile in her voice. " _Now, go!_ "

TJ let out a laugh. "Ok...I-I'll see you soon?"

" _I hope so._ "

Then she hung up.

TJ spent a happy seven seconds grinning like a middle schooler whom the pretty, popular girl just smiled at—he was like Rudolph, from the movie of the same name, when the pretty girl deer with the polkadots bow calls him cute, then he repeatedly yells 'She think's I'm cute!' as he flies off the ground in happiness.

His tablet buzzed again, and it snapped him back into the present.

The tech threw the phone down and ran out of the unused office like a bat outta hell and didn't stop until he was back in the room he left Steve in. Said captain was surprised to see TJ skid into the room (his worn sneakers provided no traction _at all_ ).

"Steve!—Steve, I think we have a problem!"

* * *

 **Have a little peak into Ellie's notebook; it's a bit of a more cryptic hint about the next chapter.**

 _The day I saw you  
My heart got smitten  
The day we met  
My soul got sweetly bitten  
The day I hugged you  
My head felt blissfully dizzy  
But I have to sit and wonder  
what do you feel for me?_


	40. Chapter 40: Enrico

**At last! My cupcakes, I have posted another chapter! Yay!**

 **So, you may have a lot of questions after this. You have two options; 1) I'm more than willing to answer those questions for you if you message me, in fact I'd love it if you did, and 2) blindly accept the confusion.**

 **A quick shutout to my friend Anna; sorry for ditching you in English for the second day in a row!**

 **Love you to crumbs, cupcakes!**

 **~Christianne**

* * *

 **Oh, one more thing; this chapter is only, like, 80% edited.**

* * *

Omniscient POV

Ellie was still where Steve left her, and had curled up in her seat as she wrote in her notebook. The brunette pulled the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth as she tucked her pen over her ear and paged through her notebook. Her poems and writings had taken on a familiar, and oddly blush-inducing theme. Briefly, Ellie thought about telling Steve not to read her work anymore, but, on the other hand, she liked talking about her poetry with him. She felt like Steve was the only one who really understood how passionate she was about what went in her notebooks.

" _Hey, Ellie! Can you come to the surveillance room?_ " TJ asked through her earpiece.

The brunette responded by putting a finger to her earpiece and giving a soft 'uh-huh.' After adding one final line to the only unfinished poem in her book, Ellie walked through the corridors and hallways of the helicarrier. At first, the idea of getting lost in the massive ship terrified the young woman, but Steve gave her a tour. The captain's encouraging words and kind smile always put Ellie at ease.

Ellie knocked softly on the half-open door, and pushed it open farther when she heard hushed, arguing voices.

"She is _not_ going in there, TJ," Steve said firmly.

"C'mon! You know it should be her! Yeah, Thor did ok with him, but if this news upsets her, _which it will_ , somebody nonthreatening is best!" TJ shot back. He threw an arm at the door, then threw an arm out to Ellie. "Just look at her Steve! Does it look like she can do _half_ of the things she's capable of?"

Choosing to take TJ's words as a compliment, Ellie looked down bashfully at her feet. The tech wasn't wrong; while battling in Sokovia, the unassuming brunette pulled her own weight and then some. Her fighting style was odd to say the least. It involved her standing out in the open, waiting for something to come into her field of vision for her to destroy, and she needed somebody watching her back constantly to make sure she didn't get hit by a car flying through the air or a stray bullet. The captain had taken on the role; that added to the previous experience he had with Ellie and her abilities, really made him aware of what she _could_ handle on her own in a room with Anna and Bucky. But Steve was still strongly against the idea.

Ellie cared so deeply about every human life, that she'd be close to unable to stopping Bucky if she needed to. If that happened, the Bucky Steve knew would never forgive himself if he hurt somebody innocent. On the off chance Ellie _was_ able to fight back against Bucky, she would seriously hurt him, and that might fracture her in a way that she couldn't come back from.

As the two men continued to argue, Ellie put her notebook and pen down, and took the tablet on the desk. Her eyes widened as she read the information it displayed.

"TJ, you wanted me to bring this to Anna?" Ellie asked. Her smooth, soft voice stopped the bickering.

"Yeah," TJ nodded, making his hair flop over his forehead. "You're the least threatening person on this craft. I'm confident Bucky won't do a thing to you."

"Of course not," Ellie agreed, nodding a little as she enlarged a picture on the screen. "Bucky would never hurt me, it's the monsters in his head that want to destroy, not him."

"Ells, you don't have to go in there," Steve stepped in. He wouldn't dare tell her what he could or couldn't do, but he knew how desperately Ellie wanted to help. The captain didn't want the brunette to think that she _had_ to do anything, let along this.

"I know," Ellie answered simply, looking up at Steve.

TJ let out a soft laugh. "Well, look at you," he said, giving Ellie a soft, playful shove. "Actin' all courageous."

"Sometimes, even life is an act of courage," Ellie commented, leaving the room for Anna and Bucky's. "Lord knows mine has been."

* * *

James whipped his head up when there was a knock at the door. He expected to see the doorknob turn and somebody to enter, but nobody did. A moment or two later, the knocking came again.

Words bubbled up James' throat and come out of his mouth in a raspy tone. "Come in." He didn't know where the phrase came from, but when he said it, a girl came in.

Saying she was a 'girl' was an involuntary phrase as well; by James' eye, she looked to be about Anna's (physical) age, but more petite. The innocence in her face did make her appear younger, though. Her wide, chocolate brown eyes looked like they belonged on a cartoon deer.

"Hi," she greeted softly, closing the door behind her. "I don't know if Anna told you about me...I'm Ellie Maple."

James nodded slowly; Anna told him about 'everyone,' or so she said. He remembered hearing about Ellie. Her tragic story brought out a protectiveness in James that he'd begun to think was less of a HYDRA implemented tactic, and more of a personality trait ingrained in him by way of Bucky.

Ellie glanced at Anna. Her face was scraped up, but her eyes were peacefully closed and breathing. "I have something to talk to Anna about," the brunette woman said, taking a step closer to the hospital bed. Th flesh hand James had on Anna's stomach, holding one of hers, tightened Ellie didn't move any farther. "How long has she been asleep?"

"Since...Since I've been in here...One hour and thirteen minutes," James answered in an almost mechanical way. "I-...I want her to wake up and be ok...But I want her to sleep, too. She ways she gets enough sleep, but I don't think she does...She always looks tired...even when she wakes up."

Ellie nodded slightly, showing she understood.

"What...What did you need to talk to Anna about?" James asked moments later. He refused to look at Ellie when he asked. Instead, he looked at Anna's hands.

The young woman took a few slow steps forward and held the tablet out to James. He took it in his flesh hand and watched the images and words fly across the screen.

"In 1950, Anna killed a man named Dominic Slavik in Argentina," Ellie explained. "His remains were cremated."

Ames nodded slowly, seeing a picture come up on the screen. He tapped on it with his flesh finger, enlarging it and bringing it into focus. He felt his lip twitch in anger when he saw the 'SS' pinned to his collar and the six-legged octopus on his hat. James wanted to punch straight through the tablet.

"His body was exhumed a few days ago and identified in a mass Nazi grave in Eastern France," Ellie continued.

"But...But you said Anna killed him in Argentina," James said slowly, looking cautiously at Ellie.

"DNA doesn't lie," Ellie responded quietly.

There was a heavy pause.

"Why'd they send you?" James asked in his low, oddly pleasant voice, making Ellie look away from Anna. She chose to stay silent. "Are you one of those...those _expendable_ agents? The...The kind they'd send in here to...to die if I can't control myself?"

Ellie shook her head. "I'm not a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. They've spent the better part of twenty years hunting me down, actually." Her smile grew a little sheepish at the hint of pride that seeped into her voice.

"Why you, then?" James pressed.

"Has anybody ever told you _don't ask questions you don't want the answers to_ , Bucky?"

The moment the name left Ellie's lips, James stood so fast that the chair he was sitting on flew backwards to the floor. Ellie skittered back a few steps, tightening her arms around herself. She swore she could _feel_ Steve and TJ freeze with worry.

"You-You know about him, Bucky, don't you?" Ellie asked carefully.

James nodded sadly and looked down at Anna again. His metal hand crept up the mattress to rest there, and his flesh hand brushed hair from Anna's face. "Yeah...Yeah, I know about him...He's the man I used to be."

After taking note of his choice of words, Ellie spoke again. "The others thought that you would be less likely to hurt somebody like...like me."

"They thought I wouldn't hurt a pretty girl?" James asked innocently. His rough spoken, low words made a surprised blush blossom over Ellie's cheeks.

"Uh...N-No," she admitted. Ellie stammered slightly as she spoke, trying to choke the blush that covered her collarbones to the tips of her ears in a light pink. After recovering from being called 'pretty' by a man as handsome (it was an undeniable fact; even sunken in and pale, Bucky Barnes was a handsome man) as the one before her, Ellie spoke again. "Somebody...Somebody defenceless."

"De-...Defenceless," James repeated, his body coiled and tense as he carefully processed the words. The brunette was briefly distracted by the whirrs and clicks of James' metal arm. "You- _You're_ -...They let you come in here, _defenceless_."

"I...Yes, they did, but I wish it was more true than it is," Ellie said softly.

Slowly, James stood. He held his flesh hand out to Ellie over Anna's bed. Cautious as ever, Ellie stretched her slender arm out over Anna's bed as well to meet his. James turned his hand and hers so Ellie's palm faced the ceiling. "You-... _Nobody_ , should be defenceless around me," his voice stressed certain words in an odd, low way. He dropped something into Ellie's hand with his metal one.

"If-If you come back when Anna is awake...bring that with you," James said. His voice, which had previously had a mysterious, flat tone to it, now had a confused mix of vaguely authoritative and mild pleading.

Pulling her palm back, Ellie's brow furrowed as she saw the 'gift' the broken, fractured man across the hospital bed had given her. She began to leave, but stopped at the door.

"Have you seen her cry?" She asked.

James took a beat to answer before he answered; he nodded slowly. "Yeah...From her dreams, mostly...She had nightmares about that god that got into her head a while back."

Ellie thought hard about what her next words should be. "Anna was my only friend for a long time."

James only blinked.

"Anna has shed a million tears, and she's going to shed a million more. But for now, you're the only thing holding her together," Ellie said in her soft, poetic way that put James in an odd state of ease. James took notice of how Ellie stood; her side to the lone camera and her head tipped so her long hair covered her face. It was so natural. When other people avoided cameras their bodies were stiff and obvious. Not Ellie; even James though it looked accidental at the first glance. He began to doubt Ellie's claim that she wasn't an agent. That skill only came after years and years of conditioning.

"Please don't break her Bucky," Ellie added in a near whisper. "Please don't break my friend."

By now, James was looking at the brunette with the softest expression he could twist his face into, and even then, it would make most grown men uncomfortable to me on the receiving end. His body was still coiled, prepared to fight. Upon further inspection, Ellie saw that it was truly only his eyes that were harsh; the rest of his face told a different story. His dark brows were raised and pulled together in the middle over widened eyes. His lips were just parted, making him appear more vulnerable.

"Anna has been broken many times, mostly by her own hand to keep others from falling apart. She will never admit it, but she can't be broken again. She won't come back from it," Ellie continued.

"You...You think I should leave her," James mumbled, looking away from Ellie and back to Anna.

"The contrary, actually," she corrected him softly, shifting the item he'd given her uncomfortably from hand to hand. "The longer you are at her side, the more whole she will become."

James looked down at his hands. "B-Bring that back with you...if you come back."

Ellie nodded; in his own way, Bucky had requested that she leave.

Once she got to the end of the hall cleared and designated for the unusual couple, Steve appeared suddenly and took Ellie's upper arm. He held her close to his side, and began asking her many, many questions as he pulled her to the surveillance room.

Ellie chose to answer TJ's question first; "What'd he give you?" She held out her hand, and both men looked at it (and her) in confusion.

"Where'd he get his hands on that?" TJ asked, looking to Steve. The captain took the silver scalpel from Ellie's palm and examined it. The knife still had the sterile cape over the blade.

"Why did he give this to you?" Steve half-demanded. Ellie's lips frowned just the slightest at the tone, and Steve saw. "C'mon, Ells, we need to know. If Bucky hurts Anna, he'll never forgive himself."

"He's not going to hurt her," Ellie said confidently. "You haven't seen his eyes."

Steve's shoulders slumped slightly, and he tossed the scalpel on the cluttered desk. TJ watched the blade land next to his keyboard, and slowly scooted it away with a pen. The three refused to leave the small room, keeping quiet for the most part, as they watched the screens. The rest of their teammates contacted them regularly for updates, but they always told them the same thing. Ellie eventually took up her notebook again and began writing. Steve watched her for a moment or two before writing before speaking. "Workin' on sumthin' new, Ells?"

Ellie nodded.

"Can I hear it?" Steve asked, eager to hear something to take his mind off his two best friends in a room not far away.

The brunette looked up at Steve with stunned, wide eyes and frantically shook her head 'no.'

Steve just chuckled and smiled. "I'm not pushin,' Ells, don't worry...Just thought I'd ask."

Ellie remained silent as she looked down at the words so artfully spread across the acid free paper. This particular poem earned it's own page and her finest penmanship.

 _The day I saw you  
My heart got smitten  
_ _The day we met  
_ _My soul got sweetly bitten  
_ _The day I hugged you  
_ _My head felt blissfully dizzy  
_ _But I have to sit and wonder  
_ _What do you feel for me?_

* * *

Anna regained full consciousness after not too much longer, and was alert and ready to jump ship with James right away. He stopped her from getting out of the hospital bed by putting the tablet in her lap. Confused, Anna held the technology up and began to read from it.

There was a project to exhume and identify World War II era mass battlefield graves (Allied and Axis) in Eastern France. Anna knew all about it; she even threw a few thousand dollars their way when it was being planned a few years back.

One of the bodies discovered was SS and HYDRA general Dominic Slavic; he was identified by his unusual, distinctive dental work. He died by a fatal shot to the head. Anna's brows furrowed; she vividly remembered killing Slavic several years after they say he died, and in Argentina.

 **_-~0O0~-_**

 **1950 - Rio Gallegos (2,600 miles South of Buenos Aires), Argentina**

 _After tracking Dominic Slavic for more than six months, Anna and her team of Israeli-trained commerads were ready to go and get the racist Nazi. The plan was a little less than legal, but Slavic needed to be in Europe to be charged. Anna would lure him outside of his estate, and a bunch of muscular Jewish men would jump out of a van, throw a rag in his mouth and a sack over his head. A short trip to the airport later, and Dominic Slavic would be on his way to stand trial for the atrocities he committed during the war._

 _Anna was anxiously pacing around the courtyard of Slavic's massive home. Her cover story was generic and plain, something about being a secretary in some business that didn't exist. She'd done plenty of undercover work, but none with men as dangerous as Slavic._

 _Eventually, the fair skinned man stepped out of the villa, and greeted Anna with a large smile. They conversed in rapid Spanish, like she expected. The next one hundred seconds happened so fast Anna could hardly process what was happening until it was over._

 _Slavic must have been onto her, because he back handed her across the face, screaming at her in German. Anna was thrown to the side by the force behind Slavic's hand, and kept herself from falling to the ground by catching herself on the metal patio furniture. It made a loud sound, but Anna was too busy dodging and avoiding hits to care. Hardly any time had passed since Slavic backhanded the blonde when he got the upper hand by wrapping a hand around her throat._

 _Anna's eyes were pinched shut in pain, and her hands fumbled helplessly at her skirt. Just when her mind was getting hazy from lack of oxygen, she managed to hike her skirt up enough to reach the knife in the specially designed holster at the top of her left stocking. Anna thrust the knife forward, and there was a soft, slick sound before her neck was released._

 _The one hundred seconds where time seemed to fly by so fast ended the instant Anna and Dominic met eyes._

 _With her heart pounding in her ears, her breathing labored, and anger boiling up in her stomach, Anna hardened her gaze at Slavic. His face was a mask of pain and surprise. Anger lingered in his eyes, and the fire within Anna's eyes seemed to feed off that._

" _You-...You are m-my judge...jury...and e-ex...executioner," Slavic gasped as blood dribbled over his lips._

" _No," Anna corrected him. Her eyes were wide in surprise with herself. She spoke numbly, her voice warbling slightly. "The surviving few of the people you tried to destroy are the judges, the world is your jury...I'm just the executioner, carrying out the verdict."_

 _Anna pulled the knife back, eliciting a painful groan from Slavic, then pushed him away from her. He fell into one of the patio chairs, and tried to apply pressure to the wound just under his sternum with weak arms. Blood covered Anna's hands, and slicked the knife. Her dress was black, so the massive blood stain couldn't be seen. She just stood there, in front of the dying man, until his labored breaths didn't expand his chest anymore._

 _Annabelle Jane Brightman was responsible for the death of General Dominic Slavic._

 **_-~0O0~-_**

On the screens in the tech room, Ellie, Steve and TJ watched Anna and Bucky bicker about whether Anna should get up and get moving, or stay safely in the hospital bed. The captain had a thoughtful look on his face, which only Ellie seemed to pick up on. She gently put a hand on the blond's forearm, and looked up at him until he looked down at her. Steve eventually looked down at her, and gave the hand on his arm a soft pat before pulling it away.

"That name is familiar," Steve said finally. " _Dominic Slavic_."

"It should," TJ mumbled. "His crazy son killed my great-aunt Penny."

"No...No, I know that. When Anna told me that story when I...When I woke up, it sounded familiar even then." Steve clarified. His family was a touchy subject for TJ, and Steve tried to tread lightly.

"Hey, pull up James Barnes' file," the captian said, standing from his place next to Ellie.

"Which one?" TJ asked, cynical, dry humor in his voice.

"Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes of the one-oh-seventh infantry division," Steve rattled off easily.

A few keyboard clicks later, and a slightly blurred photo (though it was of the highest quality at the time it was taken) of a young man with dark hair and a confident grin on his face came up on the screen. It was directly left of a newer, crisper image that showed him with longer hair and a feral, animalistic fighting sneer on his face.

"Can you pull up only his original Army file?" Steve asked, and watched the tech spread out the pages of Bucky's file over the many large screens. "This one, make this one bigger."

TJ nodded, and enlarged the file the captain gestured to. "Looks like it's a report, dated January second, 1943...Oh." TJ paused.

"Sergeant James B. Barnes fatally shot and killed an SS general," Ellie continued from TJ. Neither man had heard her stand from her chair, or walk over to them.

"He got a Bronze Star for this," Steve mumbled under his breath, scanning the document for anything useful information packed between the official mumbo-jumbo.

"Yeah, my great-grandma Beccy has it over her mantle," TJ sighed.

"Here," Steve pointed to the screen again, this time at a paragraph at the bottom. "Here, blow this up. It's a transcription of his statement."

TJ did as the captain told, and zoomed in on the typewriter typed statement at the bottom. "I didn't think snipers had to do these during World War II."

"They stopped not too long after this," Steve explained. "This was Bucky's first confirmed kill when he wasn't in the trenches, some guy's can't handle it and the army wanted them to have an out after their first."

The captain fell silent after his little history lesson, and began to read the brief statement. As he read the slightly smudged words, Steve realized he was reading them in Bucky's voice; the suave, confident voice he used to have, not the rough, growl-like tone 'James' had.

 **I was up on a hill, covering the guys as they approached the tank. It'd been there for days, a week, maybe, I don't remember, and there hadn't been any movement. Major Sergeant—Sorry, Sergeant Major Collins wanted to see what the hell was going on with it, you know? See if it was abandoned 'cause it was broken or out of ammo, and see if somebody was hurt inside, German, or, uh, you know, one on our side. The guys were only a few yards from the thing when I saw movement in the brush through my scope. It was an ambush. I didn't have time to run down and warn them, so I put one in the trees to get their attention...Nazis came outta the trees like bats outta hell—Can I say that in this? Like bats outta hell? Anyway, my boys outnumbered them, and it didn't take too long for them to get the upper hand. We thought it was all good, but then another damn tank came out. This smug SOB was standin' outta the top, yelling orders at everybody else...I took the shot. Hit him dead on. That gave the guys the chance to hop into the tank and take control of it. We took two prisoners, dumped them at the camp nearest to us, and well, here we are.**

"He...He hit a moving target from 550 yards away," TJ said, having skimmed the rest of the document. "That-That's hard even with today's tech...And he-he's so modest about the whole thing."

"He didn't like to brag," Steve said simply. "Not about something like this, anyway...Bucky was never proud to kill anyone. It was worse when he had the scope, he knew exactly who he killed tat way."

"But all this doesn't say who Anna killed in Argentina," Ellie put in softly. "It raises more questions than anything."

"We know it's _not_ Dominc Slavic," TJ said, typing again. "A guy names Bobby Harrington pulled the dead general from the tank. He had papers and a military ID proving he was Slavic. Bobby had no reason to lie about something like that."

"Why didn't Anna recognize the name?" Ellie inquired. "Surely if Dominic Slavic was connected to Bucky in some way, Anna would have found it."

"No...No, this was before she even came over with the SSR. Bucky didn't want her to read about what happened to him in Italy, or what he did before that...I doubt she's ever seen his entire file," Steve said thoughtfully.

* * *

Anna POV

I was so absorbed in the tablet James gave me that I almost didn't notice that he'd fallen asleep. When I did, I smiled a little and carded my fingers through his hair.

Bucky had a permanent hold on my heart, always had and always will, but James had carved himself a nice little niche in there to. He was...He was _different_ than any other man I'd ever met (Bucky included). He had a pretty damn good reason for being different, considering what he'd gone through. The last time I experienced such devotion, trust and _protectiveness_ from a man was Bucky. But the more I thought about it, James probably was even _more_ devoted and protective than Bucky was. Bucky knew my hesitance towards some things in the early stages of our relationship and the difficulties I had with trust. It was more than believable that he would hold back, and only expressed what he knew I needed and what I could handle. He was special like that; everything he did in our relationship, he seemed to do for me. 'It's all about you, darlin,' he'd tell me when he ordered wine he knew I liked and he didn't at dinner. That phrase also extended to _other_ parts of our relationship; parts that had my close girl friends gape-mouthed, wide eyed and swooning at.

I smiled just a little wider, and gently tapped the tip of James' nose before retracting my hand.

My brief mind-tangent about the one (or would it be considered two?) man in my life gave me a break from my thoughts regarding Slavic, and the implications it had on Enrico.

I needed to talk to them; my team.

Bringing them in here wasn't an option, it would just be too much for Jimmy, so me going to them was the only option. Sadly, when my brainwashed-boy was out was the only time I could skedaddle. I knew it was wrong to take advantage of his rare natural-sleeping state, since they were so rare, but he hardly let me out of this hospital bed, let alone his sight. I left a note for him, though, on the tablet. I even made it blink a soundless, slow, soft blue so he'd be sure to notice it.

I leaned down and pressed a kiss to James' hairline. Then, I threw my good leg over the side of the bed, pulled my not-so-good leg over as well, and did an odd little half-hop, half-limp to the door. About halfway to the hall exit, Clint appeared and helped me by taking most of my weight. I didn't say anything, but I expressed my thanks, and how much I missed him, by pressing my cheek to his shoulder. The archer reciprocated the sentiment by making a soft sound in the back of his throat.

Clint stopped after a turn or two, and opened the door. We shuffled inside, and I let go of my friend to lean on a table. I did a quick headcount; Clint, Natasha, Steve, Ellie and TJ.

"Where are the others?" I asked, looking to Steve.

"After Thor dealt with Bucky, he left to be with Jane," Steve began. "Kára is still with the medical team, Tony and Rhodey are doing...I don't know, something with his company and politics. Sam is reaching out to some old contacts to make sure all of the Sokovians have a good place to go."

I nodded in understanding, then looked to the plethora of screens TJ sat in front of with worried eyes. Said tech turned to look at me. "How bad is it?"

"Astronomically bad," I told him, clenching my jaw.

"I get that Enrico would be pissed, I mean, his father wasn't who he thought he was, but why is that _astronomically_ bad?" Clint asked me.

"One of the many reasons Enrico hates my guts is because he thinks I robbed him of the chance to know who he really is by way of his father," I sighed out. "And now that his father isn't Dominc Slavic, the infamous Nazi, he's only going to get _more_ pissed off, violent and frustrated. That, paired with knowledge that Enrico has identified himself with HYDRA...It's only going to get worse."

Steve scrubbed a hand down his face. "What's his next move going to be, Annie?"

I shook my head, crossing my arms. "The man is bipolar, _really_ bipolar, he's on meds for it last time I checked...It could be literally anything."

"I think he'll avenge the death of the real Dominic Slavic," Natasha put in, stepping towards me. I looked at her expectantly, urging her to continue. "Enrico spent his whole life idolizing Slavic, not necessarily his father."

"He must feel like Dominic Slavic is his father," Ellie chimed in softly, picking up on Natasha's thought. "Enrico was willing to go to great lengths to avenge the man he thought was his father for decades. I-I don't think we would be able to estimate the lengths he will go to in avenging the man his father pretended to be."

"He's devoted to the idea of Dominic Slavic, not his father figure," Natasha added on.

"Oh my God..." TJ breathed, standing from his chair. He began pacing around, grabbing at his shaggy hair.

"He'll come after Bucky," Steve said in a flat, emotionless voice. I knew that voice; it was the one that he used when he was trying to distance himself from the mission.

"What?" I half-snapped. " _Why?_ "

"You told me about the Bronze Star he had," Ellie spoke up when nobody else did. "Bucky Barnes was awarded that Bronze Star for killing SS General Dominic Slavic."

My eyes fell shut, and I gripped the edge of the table. I could have had this information decades ago, but I never read my sweetheart's file 'cause he told me not to. He wanted to be the one to tell me what he did, not some piece of paper.

"There-There was another sniper," I managed to get out.

"What?" Clint asked, taking a few steps towards me.

"When-When Bucky shot the SS general that got him the Bronze Star, there-there was another expert marksman in his unit," I explained, leaning more heavily on the table and pressing a palm to the wound on my thigh. "And older guy, he served in the first war. At-At least fifteen confirmed kills pre-1916, nobody really knows how many Nazis he got, 'cause he died when Bucky was taken by HYDRA and shipped to Italy...Whitewater, I'm pretty sure. His last name was Whitewater."

TJ was doubtful, clearly expressed by his face, but sat down at the keyboard and typed anyways. "Edward Whitewater," he said a moment later. "Born in nineteen-hundred, died in 1943...He _was_ an expert marksman with a lot of confirmed kills, and he _was_ one of two snipers on the tank excursion with Bucky."

"Why wasn't Whitewater mentioned in Bucky's statement, then?" Natasha asked.

"It looks like they were on completely opposite sides of the area. He wasn't really relevant to Bucky's statement," TJ answered.

"What are the chances it was Whitewater who shot Slavic?" I asked, grasping at straws.

Enrico was a madman, but he was logical in how he destroyed. If there was proof that showed Whitewater, who was now dead, killed Dominic Slavic, then he wouldn't go after Bucky, since he hadn't done anything that influenced his life.

"They're too small for A.L.I.C.E. to compute accurately," TJ said quietly.

"But there _is_ a chance," I shot back.

"It says Whitewater took Bucky under his wing, sniper wise. Taught him a lot, it looks like," Clint pointed out, reading the documents on the screens. "The odds may be too small to quantify because they have such similar signatures."

TJ shrugged and nodded, acknowledging the possibility.

"Where was Dominic Slavic shot?" I fired off. "Head, heart...?"

Bucky avoided headshots when he could.

"Whitewater was a headshot guy," Steve said, looking away from his file. "If he was showing Bucky the ropes, Buck would try 'n do it just like Whitewater."

"So it was a headshot," I amended, pulling my lower lip between my teeth. I shut my eyes and shook my head. One of my hands pressed to my forehead, trying to ward off a headache. HYDRA was after James, several government and private agencies were after James; I did not need Enrico Slavic tearing the world apart for him too.

"Anna, we'll help you guys—"

"I don't need _help_ ," I cut Clint off. Tears were prickling in my eyes, so I pinched them shut. "I-I need _less_."

It got really quiet.

"So...What's the plan, Anna?" TJ asked, his eyes wide and waiting as they gazed at me. They were the same stormy blue as Bucky's.

Suddenly, I was suffocating. I was expecting a large amount of resistance by taking James on a world tour of HYDRA smashing, but Enrico Slavic was an unforeseen variable. An unforeseen variable that _killed my niece_.

I sighed heavily. "I don't have a plan."

Steve was the only one that outwardly showed his shock. I was the one who always had a plan; it was my thing. I _never_ felt trapped.

"I'm going to go back to my room, back to James, and I'm going to take a nap," I said with a nod. "As of right now, _that's_ the plan."

* * *

I tried to slid back under the thin covers of the hospital bed as smoothly and quietly as I could. But James was asleep on the edge of the bed, his folded arms as a pillow, so I obviously woke up.

"Hey..." I said softly, smiling as I carded my fingers through his hair. "How was your nap, sleepy-head?"

"You...You left?" James asked, his eyes only half open as he groggily looked up at me.

"You were out like a light, and I needed to talk to a few people," I told him, keeping my voice soft. "I wasn't gone long."

James leaned back from the hospital bed, and stretched his joints. They cracked noisily, and his left arm clicked and whirred appropriately. "What did you talk about?"

I took a deep breath, and hesitated before speaking.

In the past, I only told James what he absolutely needed to know. I didn't do that this time. I told him _everything_. It was a good twenty minutes before I was done. James sat quietly, his eyes glued to mine as he soaked up every word, breath and pause I took.

When I was done, I didn't say a word. I didn't ask his opinion, advice, or even tell him to respond.

"So...There's no way you can tell who killed Dominic Slavic?" James finally asked.

"Nope," I sighed, rubbing my temples.

"Who did you kill in Argentina?" James asked me.

"I dunno...They're looking into it," I sighed.

There was a heavy pause. I thought James was going to get up and run around, trying to get us ready to blow the joint, but he didn't.

Instead, he said "What if you bring him back?"

I laughed once. "Can't bring back the dead, sweetheart. Whitewater is the only one who could definitively tell us who shot Slavic, and he's been in the ground since 1943."

"No...No, not Edward Whitewater," James said in a quiet voice. He looked up at me with wide, vulnerable eyes and raised brows. "Him... _Him_...Bucky."

My eyes shot open wide, my brows raising as well as I stared at him. "Wh- _What?_ "

"I can feel him, in here," James said, tapping his temple softly. "I can feel him...You-You know people who can do some pretty amazing things...I-I'm sure you could find someone who could pry him out."

" _James_..." I breathed out, my voice hardly above a whisper.

"I-I know you want him back, Anna," he continued, pulling his brows together as he looked down at his hands. "I know you do...He-He wanted to be back with you too...You two could be together again...and he could tell you if he shot that guy."

"J-Jame-... _Baby_ , you don't have to-"

"I know...But-But if I did..." James trailed off, looking back up at me. "If I let you pull him out, it would make you happy, Anna."

I let out a choked little sound.

"That-That's what I want," James said, his voice warbling softly as he spoke. "I want you to be happy, Glow."

The phrase rang in my ears.

 _I want you to be happy, Glow._

I broke down and began sobbing. I grabbed James' shirt and yanked him towards my hospital bed. He sat on the end, and let me wrap my arms around him in an ultra-tight grip and sob into his chest. James wrapped both his arms around my shaking form, and with a shaking flesh hand, he began to stroke my hair and shoulder.

"He-...He's going to be so happy to see you again," James whispered in a raspy voice. His lips brushed my hair and ear, and his breath fanned my skin. I only sobbed harder; he thought I was crying from the happiness of being with Bucky again.

I wasn't.

Not even close.

I was crying because I had to choose.

There was the man I spent more than seventy years loving with all my heart; this very man was hidden under years and years of mental torture and suppression, and was fighting to be free.

And there was the man he was now, who was so desperately in love with me, who I loved in his own way; this man was willing to sacrifice himself so I could have my first and only love back.

I've made a lot of hard choices in my life, more than any person should.

 _This_ was harder than _any_ other choice I've made _in my life_.


	41. Chapter 41: Undo What They Did

**So...I had a snow day today. A snow day. In April. Ugh.**

 **Anyway, I didn't have school, and this happened...Don't hate me.**

 **Leave me a review cupcakes!**

 **~Christianne**

 **PS~ The song; it was on the radio as I started this...Don't judge me. I like it. Also, I listened to this as I looked over the chapter for the final time, and, yeah...It's the official song of the chapter.**

* * *

 **So, well, not totally edited...**

* * *

And _I got way too many feels, way too much emotion_  
 _I don't even know what's real_  
 _I just say fuck it, keep on going_  
-"Feels" by Kiiara

* * *

Anna POV

I sighed heavily as I fell stomach first onto the king sized bed. "Now _this_ is a bed," I mumbled into the covers.

After I stopped crying, I kicked Jimmy out of the room so Kára could come in and stick my leg with my personal favorite regenerative serum to fix the tissue in my thigh. Ten minutes later, I could not only put weight on my leg without too much pain, but I felt well enough to jump ship with James. I had one more I had one more dose in my bag that I would make my boy jam into my leg a little bit later, and in a week tops, I'd be ready to fight something again.

It wasn't long after we left the helicarrier that we ended up in one of my favorite five-star hotels; a beautiful mountain ski resort in Austria. Once we were inside our suite, I was happily collapsed onto the bed. James was quickly analysing the room with sharp eyes, moving around like a mosquito on speed as he worked to declare the room free of intruders, bugs and cameras.

I smiled a little, and in a half-sarcastic tone, I asked him "So Jimmy, what'cha think of the room?"

"It's fine," her responded in his usual low tone.

"What'cha think of the view?" I asked, this time a little more genuine in my question, but only half-listening; I was too busy inhaling the sweet smell of clean linens and reveling in the egyptian cotton comforter against my skin.

"Anna..."

"This place is even better in the winter," I told him. "Sure, there's a little snow all year, but when it really covers everything...Ugh, that beautiful crap is like _powdered sugar_."

"Anna," James started again. I felt the bed dip to the side of me, and I could just about feel the heat coming from his body as he sat there.

"Do you know how to ski? Probably not, I mean, it's not like HYDRA needed you to know the slalom," I kept talking. "I'll teach you, then."

"Anna, we haven't talked about-about _it_ , since we left."

"They make the best hot chocolate here," I continued dreamily. "I don't know how they do it, but it's just so much better than any other hot chocolate I've ever had."

"Anna, stop talking about skiing and hot chocolate."

"I mean, I've had _a lot_ of hot chocolate over the years, but this place beats everybody else all the time," I said, my voice a little more forced.

"Annabelle Jane."

"First, I'm really mad that you somehow picked up on that," I told him. "And second, it's not my fault I can't stay on topic...I'm all hopped up on the magic juice that lets me walk, like, seven months before I normally could."

"... _Glow_."

That made me slowly turn my head towards him. I kept half my face pressed to the comforter, so only one eye was actually seeing, and it was seeing through my hair. I watched James slowly lay back on the bed next to me. We were about a foot apart on the bed, looking at each other as we just laid there.

"How can you just sacrifice himself like that?" I finally asked in a whisper that was mostly directed at the covers.

"I want you to be happy," he answered simply, like it was obvious.

"But what about you?" I asked, keeping my voice small. "Take me out of the equation, James. Would you still be doing this?"

James had his typical expressionless, hard face on, and he only blinked at me. "If you weren't in the equation...there wouldn't be an equation at all."

"Don't say that," I told him softly. "Now answer my question. Would you still be doing this if I wasn't involved?"

"I don't know," James mumbled honestly. "I don't know a world without you...Glow."

"Honey, if we did this—if _you_ do this—there's no guarantee that you'll come back," I breathed out. If I spoke any louder, I was afraid my voice would show how close I was to tears.

"I know," James answered, shifting his head and gaze so he was staring at the ceiling of the hotel room. This particular hotel was famous for having a wood burning fireplace in every room. They were lit right after guests checked in, which meant I was looking at James' face by the flickering light of a fire.

His eyes looked molten blue.

"But...Maybe that-that's not a bad thing."

I hadn't realized my eyes had fell shut until they flew open at his words.

"How-how could you say that?" I gasped out, looking at him with wide eyes.

His brows furrowed like he was thinking hard, and he stayed like that, and silent, for quite some time.

"I haven't done a whole lot of-of good things..." James amended slowly. "I...I've done a lot of bad things...I'm not a good person."

"Don't- _Don't you dare say that_ ," I whispered. My voice had a desperate edge to it.

"It's ok...I know I'm not a bad person all-all the way through," he mumbled, not looking away from the patterns of gold leaf on the ceiling. "Bucky...Bucky-He-He's most of the good parts about me."

" _You_ -You are _good_ , James," I said shakily.

"Bucky is most of the good parts of me...The rest of the good parts of me...They're all you," when he said the last part, he turned to look at me. "You're what's good about me...You-You brought out the Bucky parts of me...Everything good about me, it's all 'cause-'cause'a you..."

My throat was constricting, so when I inhaled, it was cracked and sob-like.

"The letter you gave me to read...I know he loves you...Bucky loves you so much, Anna...He never lets me forget it, not-not that I would forget that...It's all he talks about," James' mouth twitched up into a microscopic smile. "Even right now...I can hear him in the back of my head...He-He's just rambling on about you."

Hot tears were pooling in my eyes as I let out a wet, involuntary laugh.

"Bucky...He's in my head all the time, but I'm not-I'm not just feeling his love for you," James continued. "His love...It's different than mine...Didn't know it until I read his letter to you..."

"You...You and-and Bucky have this...Your love was so pure...It's the kind fairytales are made of...I don't really know what that means...but Bucky said it a lot...I thought it made sense...And-And you love him in-...You'll never love anybody else like you love him, and that-that's ok.

"I-...I think I love you in a different way...I know I love you in a different way, and-and I don't know how to-to describe it yet...It's...It's fuzzy. And-And warm. I-I look at you, and I don't think I've ever-ever felt so safe."

James looked back to me. I'd moved my head so my cheek was pressed to the comforter, which was soaking up the tears that flowed from my eyes. My hair was sticking to my wet cheeks. Slowly, he reached out his flesh hand towards my face, and with clumsy, shaking fingers, James attempted to wipe away my tears. His fingers tangled gently into the damp strands on my cheek and pulled them away from my face. Once he was done, his hand stayed near me to fiddle with the ends of my hair.

"You've never hurt me, Glow," James said quietly. "And-And I don't think you ever will...'Cause-'Cause you love me too."

I let out a little sob.

"It-It's a different kind of love, I think...But that's ok...I-I think any guy would be l-lucky to be loved by you...Any kind of love..." James trailed off, gently brushing the back of a single finger over my cheek. "It's ok...I-I don't want you to be sad, or-or feel guilty...I'm not asking you for-for more...I just want you to know...I-I _need_ you to know that-that I l-love you."

I pinched my eyes shut.

"I-I don't know what-what you think love is...But-But I know what I think love is...and-and I love you, Glow," James finished with a slight nod. Through all of that, while I broke down slowly, his voice stayed calm and even. "Anna...I-I want to-to do this for you because I love you...I want you to be-be happy...Glow, I-I'd die in an instant it if would ma-make you happy."

I abruptly got up off my stomach and stood from the bed, walking to the large window. My hands were over my mouth and nose as I breathed erratically. Even though my eyes were pinched shut, tears somehow still fell. I don't know how long it took, but I was able to compose myself a little.

"Wh-Why do you think this would make me happy, James?" I asked in a thick whisper.

"You-You miss him...I know you do...Bring-Bringing him back...It'd make you hap-happy...Wouldn't it?" James asked, sounding curiouse.

"Yeah...Yeah, it would, but if I lost _you_ -"

"Don't worry about me," James cut me off. It was a first, and the calmness of his voice was starting to scare me. "Don't-Don't worry about me..."

I let out a wet laugh. "You don't believe that. How can I not be allowed to worry about you? You worry about me all the time."

"You keep-You keep saying that...that to undo what H-HYDRA did to me, I need to make my own choices," James answered a moment later. I turned halfway to him, just enough to see he was still on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. "This...This is what I choose."

"No," I said, trying to be as firm as I could be with him in that moment. "No, no I won't let you."

"...A-Anna...Come back here," James mumbled. He awkwardly patted the bed next to him. Under other circumstances, I would've felt a slight swell of pride for him using such a gesture without hesitation, or asking if he was using it correctly. But now, I only felt like crying again.

The last time I'd cried this much, I was still wearing my hair in curls, refilling ink pens daily, and trying to rim my eyes with kohl.

I slowly made my way back to the massive bed. I saw next to him, making sure our bodies didn't touch, and played with my fingers.

"You told me once that-that dying was unacceptable...That-That no matter what, I needed to live through any fight...for-for you," James said slowly. He was still on his back, but his eyes were on me. They burned into me, smoldering in the firelit room; the sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving the fire to be the only source of light.

"I thought you meant that...that _dying_ wasn't something-something I was... _allowed_ to consider in any context," James paused, gnawing briefly on his lower lip. "But he-...Bucky told me there-there was one time that dying was ok...Dying for you."

"What if when you're gone...and Bucky doesn't come back?" I asked thickly. I felt so childish; crying, looking at my hands and blubbering out questions. Part of me wanted to slap myself to try and force the tears to stop. The other part of me was...I don't know what it was. It was crying to hard.

James shrugged his shoulders against the comforter. "I-I think he will...He-He's strong...In my head, he-he's always there..."

"If the-the people you know can...can get inside my head, like HYDRA did...I think I know what's gonna happen to me...Us...Bucky and me..." James paused again, and shut his eyes. "I think I'll be-be pushed to the-the back of my head like Buck-Bucky is now...I think he'll hear me now and then, like I hear him..."

"Well, I'd hope Bucky would be able to hear you," I said, placing a hand on James' knee. My thumb slowly brushed circles through the material of his pants; he'd put on a shirt that covered his arm, but kept on the old S.H.I.E.L.D. sweats. "You're a good guy, James. And, you know, I think Bucky is gonna need a little of your ruthlessness if he gets out here, in this big world, to deal with what he's gonna have to deal with."

"I hope he doesn't hear me at all..." James said when I was done.

"Why?"

"...I don't like the memories of what they made me do...Of what I did...I-I don't like that you know about-about it...It's-It's dark...Evil..." James paused. "If he comes back...He-He'd be good for you, Anna...I-I can see how all of this...How your life...How being alone for so long...It-It's all changed you so much...I-I know, 'cause-'cause I-I've seen flashes of the old you...The you Bucky knew...

"He'd be good for you...You make me human...He-He'll remind you that-that there's still good in the world...Good in you."

"But...Jimmy, sweetheart, I'd miss you," I told him. I had to clear my throat twice before I could speak.

"You would be more happy to see him than sad that I'm gone," James responded without missing a beat. "It's ok, Glow...It's _ok_."

I didn't say a word.

"You told me," James began, sitting up as he opened his eyes. "That-That if I wanna undo what they did to me...I need to make my own choices."

His blue eyes were strong, defiant, and held such emotion that I almost started crying again.

"This is my choice to make," he said in a low, smooth whisper. This was the first time he'd spoken so much in what I'm sure was decades. The rough edge his voice had from years of disuse was slowly being buffed out with every word he spoke. James was beginning to sound like Bucky again.

"If-If your friends can get into my head...I-I want them to bring Bucky back...Not just for you, Anna...I-I want to see you through his eyes...I want to see..." James trailed off, and his flesh hand crept towards mine. He laced our fingers together, then continued. "I-I want to see you through his eyes."

My throat constricted again, but a teary smile made its way onto my face. I reached forward and brushed hair out of James' face, tucking it behind his ears. Instead of retracting my hand, I brought it to his cheek and brushed my thumb along his high cheekbone.

"I love you, Glow...In my own way, I really do," James told me. His eyes were burning with such emotion that it was clear that it was true. James loved me with everything he had in every way ke knew how.

"I love you," he breathed again, more to himself than me.

My smiled got a little bit bigger, and a thick laugh even bubbled up over my lips.

"I know 'ya do, James. I know 'ya do," I told him soothingly. "And you know what else, darlin'?"

He responded with a soft 'Hm?'

"I love you too, James," I whispered.

Then, he smiled.

James, for the first time, gave me a _real_ smile. It was small and timid, but it was a real smile all the same.

I sudden urge and nervousness washed over me. I loved this man, no matter who he was. I loved James Buchanan Barnes in every way, shape or form he could come in. Still, it was probably a bad idea to act on such intense emotions with a mentally fractured man in a very tense time. But then again, I'd been responsible for years, and one thought stuck out in my mind.

 _Fuck it._

I hadn't been able to act emotionally in over a year, and goddamnit _I wanted to_.

I tightened my hand around James' before letting go, and scooted closer to him. Steadying myself by putting a hand on his chest, I pulled a leg up under myself to get a little more height. James watched me with wide eyes, which looked apprehensive, nervous and excited all at the same time. I brushed my hand over his cheek again, and moved my hand so that the pad of my thumb grazed over the corner of his mouth. His lips parted, and he shaky breath, his brows rising up his forehead before pulling together in the middle in apprehension.

The closer I leaned towards him, the faster his breathing became.

But when my lips grazed his, it seemed to calm him instantly.

He exhaled slowly, and his flesh hand gently came to rest on my forearm. The hand I had on his chest was over his heart, and I felt the strong beats even out into a steady rhythm. When I pulled back to breathe and gauge his reaction, James moved forward in time with me, trying to prolong the kiss. Part of me smiled a little, and I happily leaned back to James, allowing our kiss to continue.

It was like our first kiss all over again, and in a way, it was. Only the roles were reversed; I was gently guiding him through it, and he was trying to learn and keep up. I moved my hand from his cheek to the back of my head, threading it through his lengthy brown locks to bring him closer to me. He seemed to enjoy this, because a small, almost inaudible sound came from the back of his throat. I used the grip on his hair to tilt his head just a little to the side. When Bucky first did that to me, my knees almost buckled; when I did it to James, another sound came from the back of his throat. It wasn't an angry or irritated sound like the others he made from the back of his throat. This was was a low, softer sound that was almost a purr. His hand went up my forearm, over my shoulder, then it stopped between my shoulder blades, where it gently pressed.

I could hear the whirring workings of his metal arm at his side; the sounds that are made when the mechanical limb curls into a fist, then splays its fingers out again. He did that a lot. I pulled back just enough to speak, and kept James from leaning forward by pressing my forehead to his.

"You're not gonna hurt me," I breathed out, feeling how his breathing pitched at my words. "I'm not going to break if you touch me, James."

He looked up at me with oddly innocent eyes, then his gaze flickered to his left hand. I kept my eyes on his face, and smile when I felt a heavy, cool hand grasp my hip. Grasp was a strong word; he rested his hand on my hip, curving it just enough to get caught on the delicate curve of my hip.

"Just go with it...Use your instincts," I whispered to James before reconnecting our lips again.

I don't know how long we stayed like that, on the edge of the bed, kissing in the light of the fireplace. It wasn't too much longer, though, that I wanted to see just how far I could take this. My hand in his hair loosened, twisted around, then grabbed; my previous grip had just been a hand pressed to his skull, but now I had a fist full of hair. James made that purring sound again, and slid his hand up from between my shoulder blades to cradle the back of my neck. I got the message pretty quick; if I scaled my roughness level to a four, James would hardly scratch a two. My personal preferences were limited at six (the equivalent of my hands held over my head and a swat on my butt that wouldn't leave a mark), so I threw caution to the wind and just held on to his hair.

" _Hold on_ ," I murmured against James' mouth, putting my hand on his firm shoulder. I braced myself with his hair and shoulder and swung my leg over his lap so I straddled him and face him directly, instead of both of us having to turn our bodies somewhat awkwardly to get to each other. I kept one hand in his hair, and my other hand locked around his neck, making sure he couldn't suddenly freak out on me.

Since our little entanglement started, I'd meshed my tongue against his lips pretty early. But the stubborn Soviet _wouldn't open his mouth_. I got a little peeved off when he also tangled a hand in my hair, and he still didn't open up his perfectly full lips. So, I did what Bucky used to do to me when I wasn't really into it as much as he was. I nipped James' bottom lip, and when his mouth opened to either gasp or protest, I took advantage of the situation. James didn't seem to mind so much, because once my tongue was in his mouth, he made that low purr that rumbled his chest again, then swayed slightly before his torso went limp and he fell back on the comforter. I giggled just a little as I felt one of his hands (I couldn't care less which one) trailed down my spine, and rested at the small of my back, _just_ above my butt.

I moved my hands to grasp the sides of his face, pulled his face back.

"I _do_ love you, you know that, right?" I asked, searching his eyes.

James brushed hair out of my face, and nodded wordlessly. His flesh thumb gently brushed over my lips as his metal one held my hair back. "I know..." He whispered, looking at me intently.

Smiling, I nodded a little. "Good...That-That's good..."

He gently pulled my face back down to his, his mental hand on the back of my head as we again began to attack each other's lips.

* * *

"Ok...See 'ya soon Kar. Keep them all on track for me, ok?" I said into the phone.

I was sitting in the large, mahogany carved spiny desk chair with my phone pressed to my cheek. I hung up with one of my best friends in the whole world just in time to hear a deep sigh from the bed. The Valkyrie and I were discussing how she'd be in charge of getting things going on her side in the effort to bring Bucky back. I was still unhappy with the idea, but I was going to do what I could to make sure it all worked because James was right; it was his choice.

I tossed the phone on the large desk, and went to the bed. I jumped on it belly first, smiling at the annoyed slur of Russian and Greek words the came from the man under the covers. Seeing as how he clearly wasn't ready to wake up yet, I fell back on the mountain of pillows behind us and turned on the TV. Most of it was coverage of what happened on Sokovia, but I found a grainy channel that was airing a rerun of some French sitcom show. I left it on, and pulled my wet hair out from behind me before snuggling back into the pillows.

James and I had fooled around well into the night, and though we both ended up stripped down to our underwear, we didn't actually _do anything_. There was a lot of touching, kissing and heavy breathing, but it was all very high school. When I woke up, I was in my bra and panties, under James' flesh arm and our legs were all tangled up. Before I got up to shower, I took a brief second to just really look at his torso. I don't know what came from the serum he was given, and what was done by the sheer amount of work he did, but it ended with him having the kind of upper body boys in their 20s wanted to have, and girls in their 20s wanted to _literally_ drool over.

Now, after my shower and call to Kára, I was wearing clean undergarments, one of Jimmy's shirts, and left my hair to air dry.

A flesh hand poked out of the covers and grasped the hem of the long sleeved shirt.

"This...This is mine," James realized from under the comforter.

"That it is, sweetie-pie," I sighed, smiling at his oddly childish behavior. "But you took off my bra last night which means I get to wear one of your shirts."

"You do?"

"Yup. It's a rule," I said with a smile, grabbing onto his hand. I was trying to be supportive of James, like I promised to be, but I was worried. And I was even more worried that James didn't seem to be worried.

Suddenly, James was out of the covers and had his head on my chest. Not in a sexual way, more of a way that indicated that he needed to be hugged and comforted, which I was more than willing to do.

"You-You know I lied to you," James mumbled into the knit material of his own shirt right above my collar bone.

"Lied about what, darlin'?" I asked, wrapping one arm around his shaking, massive shoulders. My other hand carded gently through his hair.

"...You-You know..."

I closed my eyes, and put my chin on his head. "It's alright to be scared."

"I'm not scared," James said quickly, but refused to look at me.

I bowed my head and sighed into his hair. For some reason, that comforted him.

"It's alright to be scared," I told him again. "It's natural...It's human to be scared, James."

"I...I don't like it..."

I laughed once. "Yeah...No one does..."

"Are-Are you scared?" He asked in a soft voice.

I pulled him closer, and cuddled into him a little more. One of James' arms wrapped around my shoulders, and let out a shaky sigh. " _Terrified_."

"You don't...You don't look terrified."

"I'm bein' strong for you, baby."

"Oh...I-I'll be strong for you then, Glow."

* * *

 _And I got way too many feels, way too much emotion_  
 _I don't even know what's real_  
 _I just say fuck it, keep on going_  
 _I got all I need, you don't know what I mean_  
 _Yeah we pour up 'til we go up_  
 _And I got way too many feels, not enough to forfeit  
And I got way too many feels  
Way too many feels_


	42. Chapter 42: New York, Spain and Morocco

**I only have a few days left of my senior year of high school, and the last few weeks have been kicking my ass. Hopefully I'll be able to post more regularly in a few weeks, after graduation and all.**

 **This is a late, long chapter is pretty much all filler with some cute fluff here and there. It's setting up for something so freaking big, so just deal with it and accept the fluff.**

 **This is mostly unedited.**

 **Love you to crumbs, my cupcakes!**

 **~Christianne**

* * *

Anna POV

"Sweetie pie, I know you hate being cooped up in here, but if you keep pacing around like that, I _will_ slowly go crazy," I sighed, sipping my hot chocolate, hoping it would relax me.

"Can't we get a bigger room?" James mumbled as he continued to go from one side of the suite to the other.

"The only bigger room in this place is the presidential suite, and there is a non-negotiable butler with the room that I can't seem to wiggle out of," I sighed, setting the empty mug on the side table of the bed. After a year of running around the world and sleeping in less-than-desirable places, I was going to spend as much time in this downy wonder as I could. James and I had arrived at the Austrian resort a little more than a week ago, and I only left the bed to use the bathroom, shower and get the door. But Jimmy was close to climbing the walls (like Bucky would be close to doing in the same situation).

"Hey, I know you hate this, but it's not really safe out there, you know that," I added a moment later. James at least stopped pacing.

"How much longer?" He asked, again beginning to pace.

I sighed and almost rolled my eyes, he'd asked me that questions about 75 times every day since we got here.

"I don't know, hun," I told him. "I don't know. Now how 'bout you c'mere and sit down next to me, get some hot chocolate and cuddle with your gal?"

He reluctantly came to the bed, and latched onto me like a big, muscular, manly koala. With his forehead resting on my collarbone, and his ear over my heart, James closed his eyes and let out a sigh that completely deflated his chest.

"Will you at least tell me when it's gonna happen?" He mumbled into the soft, cashmere sweater I was wearing. I actually bought it for him, but he said the delicate weave got caught in the metal plates of his arm. I'm more of the mind that he saw how much I liked to wear it, and he liked to see me wearing it for a reason he didn't understand. Or the weave really _did_ get caught in his arm. Either way, I got the sweater.

I lifted a hand up and carded it through the lengthy at the back of his head, pulling through the strands until his eyes lulled closed. I pressed a kiss to his hairline before I spoke; "No."

Keeping his eyes closed, James' brow furrowed. "Why not?"

"If you know when it's going to happen, your mind is gonna protect itself, honey, like it should," I explained softly. "I'm sorry, but I can't tell you when it's gonna happen."

"I...I understand," he answered in his low, rough voice. He paused. "It's not gonna be tomorrow, is it?"

I laughed a little. "Don't worry, baby, we got a few months before anything big happens."

"So...So we can take-take a walk through the resort tomorrow, then?" He asked tentatively. "I heard people talking about how...how _pretty_ it is outside...With-With the snow and all."

He looked up at me with those wide baby blues, and I couldn't help but to lean down down with a smile on my face and press a chaste, quick kiss to his lips. " _Of course_ we can take a walk around the resort tomorrow."

* * *

Omniscient POV

Once the compound had been established in upstate New York, everybody began to fall into routines. A particular one caught the attention of the Avengers agents more than others. Steve and Ellie had an established friendship before they got to the new compound, but their new habit of meeting every Thursday night at 6:30 to watch a couple of old movies projected onto the wall of one of the hangers was oddly date-like. If Ellie was asked about it, she would blush softly, and say something oddly poetic about misinterpretations; Steve would roll his eyes or laugh slightly, then accuse the person who asked of spending too much time with Tony. Everyone still called them dates, though.

It was because of the well-established routine of 6:30 movie nights, that people thought it was odd to see the captain wandering the compound a little after seven. Their movies would end no later than 9:45 or 10:30 at night.

"Hey," Steve said, waving a passing agent over in a hallway. "Have you seen Ellie today?"

The agent, Jerry, shook his head. "No, sir, I haven't. Have you checked her room?"

"Twice," Steve said, quickly becoming more frustrated and worried. "Dismissed," he said absentmindedly when he saw Jerry still standing next to him. The agent nodded once, then quickly left.

Ellie had always been unpredictable to a degree, but to completely disappear like this wasn't like her at all. The type of unpredictability she brought to the table usually came from what she said, not randomly acting out. Steve considered Ellie a close friend, and lately, she'd been acting oddly; _different_. She was always on the shy, quiet side, but after more than a year to get to know each other and the team, Ellie had opened up slightly. Given that, Ellie had been more shy, withdrawn and timid lately, and it seemed it was only around him. On one level, he was worried about her emotional state, given her history, but on another, Steve wanted to know if he'd done something to impact their friendship negatively.

Almost an hour later, Steve's phone buzzed. Jerry's voice began speaking the moment Steve answered. " _Captain, I thought I would inform you that I have been able to locate Miss Maple._ "

The captain sighed in relief. "Where is she? Is she in danger?"

" _There are no threats in her area, sir,_ " Jerry answered calmly. " _She is on the southwest lawn of the facility, close to the treeline._ "

"Copy...Thanks," Steve responded, then hung up and began a brisk walk to the southwest lawn.

* * *

"Gave me a pretty good scare Ells," the blond said once he was within earshot of Ellie. She was laying on her back in the manicured grass, watching the sky intently.

"Oh, I'm sorry...Is it past 6:30?" She asked, her dark brows furrowing slightly.

"Yup," Steve said, plopping down on the ground next to the petite young woman. "It's almost 9:15."

"Oh," Ellie sighed. "I...I got distracted...I'm trying to get over one of my fears."

"Which one?"

"Stars," Ellie breathed out quietly. "I know it's a silly fear. What could something that appears to small and beautiful do to me that it should make me draw my curtains and hide after nightfall?"

Steve shrugged. "Fears are fears," he reasoned. "You don't need to justify them."

"Did you know that a lot of the stars we see every night are already dead?" Ellie asked, jumping topics.

The captain chuckled once. "Really?"

"Mm-Hm..." Ellie nodded. "They are so very, very far away that we on Earth don't know they are dead until one night we look up in the sky and see one less star above us. They...They are like living beings...Living beings that continue to give off light for years and years even though they are actually dead..."

Steve's brows furrowed and Ellie's words. He knew her struggles with depression, and the tragic bouts of self harm by way of Anna, and she truly seemed to be doing better recently. But her behavior in the last few weeks, and now her talk of death, worried him.

"I like clocks," Ellie announced.

Steve moved from sitting on the grass next to the brunette to laying in the grass next to her. "Do you know?"

"Yeah...It's easy to know when a clock has been broken, because it stops keeping time. The very instant a clock breaks, it's displayed on its face to see," Ellie further explained in her soft, poetic voice. "People are harder...They can be broken for years before somebody notices that they stopped keeping time."

Steve had been watching Ellie speak with detail-absorbing eyes. His brows furrowed slightly. "Ells...Are you OK?"

"I think so, I mean, I'm the same as I always am," she mumbled, eyes still flitting over the sky.

"Ellie," Steve said, letting his worry seep into his voice just enough so she would give a real answer.

"I'm not depressed, no more than I normally am," Ellie began to explain further. "But, I don't think I'm happy either."

"Want to go back to Xavier's?" The captain asked, thinking that the stress of being an Avenger was beginning to get to the brunette.

"No," she answered without hesitation. "The professor has been wonderful to me, and I owe him so much, but I need to figure it out on my own."

" _It?_ "

Ellie began to gnaw on her bottom lip. "I feel like something is missing...I feel like a part of me—who I am—is missing.

"But missing isn't really a good word for it," she continued. "Saying something is missing implies that you had it in your possession at one point, I'm missing something I'm not even sure I've ever had to begin with."

"If you never had it to begin with, how do you even know it's missing?" Steve asked when her pause lasted longer than they had.

"If you had never seen the daytime sky before, and while there was light from above, but no sun, would you think something was wrong?" Ellie answered. "That something was missing?"

The captain didn't know how to respond, so he stayed silent for the time being. "Ellie?"

"Yes?"

"Anna told me that you used to love the stars…You'd open the curtains wide every night and look at them until you fell asleep…How do you go from that to being terrified to them?" Steve asked cautiously.

Ellie blinked her eyes a time or two, the moon casting shadows down her cheeks from her long lashes. "Do you remember when Anna was helping me… _hone_ my mutation?"

"Yeah, she took you all over the world."

"I learned a lot about my own mind," she continued slowly. "I learned things about myself, about my mind, that I didn't want to know at all…Things nobody would want to know about their own mind.

"The stars…The first thing I saw when I was able to look deep within my myself was an absolutely massive star. It hurdled towards me faster than anything I've ever seen, including Pietro Maximoff, and surround me…It was terrifying…All I could see was that star…"

Honestly, it didn't sound that terrifying to Steve, but it was terrifying to Ellie, and that's all that mattered when it came down to it. The captain reached towards Ellie's hand on the ground and gave it a soft pat.

"It'll get better," Steve said, then sighed at how it sounded; he _hated_ when people told him that, and here he was, saying it to the very last person who needed to hear it. "Don't run and hide like that, Ells…You don't carry any gear we can track."

"I'm sorry if I worried you," Ellie said honestly. "I think I needed to be alone."

"Oh…Want me to leave?"

"No!" Ellie said quickly. The captain had started to get up from the ground, but quickly settled back into the grass next to the brunette. "I-I thought I needed to be alone, but I think you being here is…helping."

"Do you think everyone has one?" Ellie asked after a long pause.

"Hm?" Steve asked; he'd drifted off into his own thoughts.

"Do you think everyone, everyone on Earth, past, present and future, has one?" Ellie once again posed the obscure question.

"One what?"

"One person," Ellie clarified. She could practically feel Steve's confused gaze on the side of her face.

"Anna found her one person, the person who she chose and who chose her. She'll never be alone again. Even when she thought he was dead, Anna believed he was still with her in spirit, waiting for her in Heaven. Now, though, she _truly_ knows she'll never be alone. I think she already knew that, but Bucky returning to her only made her more sure." Ellie spoke calmly and thoughtfully, an almost wistful expression on her features. "Anna is Bucky's one, and he is hers."

The brunette turned and looked at the captain with wide brown eyes, that were hauntingly innocent and wondering. "Do you believe everyone has one person?"

Steve swallowed, then shrugged. "I don't know, Ellie," he answered honestly. "I hope so. I know quite a few people who could use their _one person_."

"What about you? Don't you want to find yours?"

Images of a confidant brunette in an olive uniform and velvet red lipstick flashed through Steve's mind when Ellie spoke. "I…I think I let her slip through my fingers," he breathed out, only half-aware that he was speaking at all.

His words made Ellie think hard. "I-…Maybe some people don't get only one person," she reasoned slowly. "The whole point of your person, is that they will stay by your side, love you unconditionally, and-and just _be there_."

Steve let out an amused breath, then sighed. "Whatever you say, Ellie."

"I'm being serious," Ellie insisted, turning her head so she saw the side of the blond's strong face. "People who have been through so much loss—enough to rip apart the weak from inside—it doesn't seem fair that they truly get _only_ **one** person…No God could be that cruel."

Steve stayed silent.

"Some people must have more than one person," the brunette continued, her brows furrowing slightly. "Yes. Yes, some people have more than one person, I'm sure of it."

The captain gave a soft chuckle, and looked back to the sky. A moment or two later, he asked "What do you hope your person is like?"

"You don't get to pick your person," Ellie answered without a thought.

"C'mon, you must have a few hopes for them," Steve said lightly. "Tall? Short? Well read, maybe?"

"I don't care what he looks like," Ellie admitted quietly. "I…I-" Her voice broke off.

Steve squeezed her hand.

"I just want him-…somebody to-to choose me," the petite brunette said softly. "People don't choose me, they're assigned to me…I want somebody to choose me and never stop choosing me…I guess that's all I want my person to be, really."

The captain was surprised when Ellie's hand turned over in the grass under his and grasped it gently. It was tight enough so Steve knew it was on purpose, but soft enough so that Steve knew Ellie was plenty relaxed.

The oddly matched pair stayed with their backs in the grass, hands clasped together, for what felt like an immeasurable amount of time.

"It's still early enough, we could go watch one of our movies," Steve said out of the blue. "I bet we could make it through _one_ of them before we get too tired."

"Could-Could we stay here for a little longer?" Ellie asked shyly.

"Of course, Ellie," Steve said, shifting into a more comfortable position, folding his free arm behind his head. "We can stay here all night if you want."

* * *

 **Four Months Later**

Over the last hundred years or so, Kára had been responsibility over many important tasks; some nukes in the 60s, watching the Ukraine during the Cuban Missile Crisis, trying to explain the ending of _Lost_ to some agents who missed it—the point is, she was no stranger to responsibility. But what she was currently doing, trying to get shit set up to bring a WWII infantryman out from his own head after being shoved in there for a Soviet science project was the biggest by far. Not because of what needed to be done, but because this was the first 'big thing' Anna told her to do. Add to it the fact that it was a _huge_ personal favor to Kára's best friend, and the Valkyrie was starting to feel the pressure.

Well, not _starting_ to feel the pressure. The pressure had been on high since she started this whole thing. Everything was so close to being ready for 'James.' Tony and TJ had been working long and hard to understand that Godforsaken that made 'James' that much less _Bucky_. Steve and Kára herself had been working on creating a realistic environment for him to wake up in. Nobody wanted Bucky/James to put two or more people through a wall like the captain did when he woke up.

Two weeks before, the team had gone to Spain for the walk-through of where the big experiment would be going down. Anna had given Kára a list of old, pre-war buildings, bunkers and hideaways that, off the top of her head, she thought would be a nice fit. They chose an old, brick armory in the Spanish countryside. After a day or two of _cleaning_ the gross old building, Kára started the hard part of the whole thing. While hired crews (paid obscene amounts of money to do their jobs and keep their mouths shut) threw the place back into the 1940s, the Valkyrie gathered the team around.

"Ok, everybody in front of me is going to have a part to play," Kára started to explain, leaning on the large stack of files on the table next to her.

"Barton," the Valkyrie began, tossing the archer a file. "Congratulations, you're a doctor now. Memorize everything in here."

"Rhody, Sam, congratulations. You two just joined the Army," Kára continued, tossing them heavy files as well. "And let me apologize profusely on behalf of people from the Lost Generation for your ranks and personal details. This was all before the March on Washington, back when the government wasn't too concerned about how outwardly racist they were.

"TJ!" She yelled, making the slightly frazzled brunette appear seconds later, a screwdriver behind his ear. "When's your girlfriend gettin' here?"

"M-My girl—Oh _come on_ , Kára!" The tech stuttered, then groaned. "Helen isn't my girlfriend and don't say stuff like that when she gets here!"

"And that will be…?"

"Her flight lands tomorrow at noon, so she should be here by three, four-thirty-five at the very latest," TJ said reluctantly, going back to his tech-corner.

Kára and Steve leaned on the table next to each other, watching the team that willingly volunteered to shed their identities and spend their free time to help Anna.

"I don't think it'll be enough," Kára eventually sighed.

"What?" Steve asked, surprised. "Kára, everything is as close to perfect as it's gonna get."

"Yeah, well, way back when, you didn't see what I did," the Valkyrie responded. "Bucky was way smarter than he let on—smarter than he probably knew he was…I just get the feeling that if there's just one more little detail in here somewhere, it'll prove the whole thing."

"Ok…" Steve nodded, understanding the reasoning. "So, what do you wanna add?"

"We're telling him he's in a hospital in Austria, right?" Kára asked in conformation.

"Yeah, North-Eastern Austria," Steve elaborated.

"Yeah…" The blonde nodded. "Remind me, captain, from which country were the Allied troops that pushed the Nazi's in North-Eastern Austria?"

The pair shared a look; Kára was mildly excited, and Steve was clearly apprehensive. The answer to the Valkyrie's question: _Russia_.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" The captain asked cautiously.

"No idea," Kára said breezily, picking up a sat. phone. "But I'm gonna do it anyway."

* * *

 **After the Battle at Sokovia: The Helicarrier**

 _Pietro was alive._

 _Emilia was alive._

 _The blond boy was still breathing because Emilia drained herself of_ _ **all**_ _her energy, and forced it into him. It resulted in her heart stopping, but she was alive on the massive airship. The gypsy girl, did not have such an intimate way of regaining life._

 _Thor had seen what had happened, and like Kára, he hated to see such a meaningful, young life cut short; especially when it was in order to save another. The god raised his hammer to the sky, and summoned white and blue, crackling lightning from the sky. Thor threw the lightning towards Emilia, having a good understanding of how her abilities worked._

 _The girl gasped, and flailed her arms and legs violently as the electricity surged through her. It was painful—the most painful thing Emilia ever experienced, but because of it, she was_ _ **alive**_ _._

 _Once on the Helicarrier, Emilia and Pietro were put on hospital beds. The managed to reach across the gap between their gurneys and held hands. More than one person tried to break their grip on each other, but they only held on tighter. Wanda, who hadn't left their sides, had to step in and just stare at the nurse more than a few times, until the uneasy person stopped trying the pry their hands apart._

 _When Pietro awoke, and was slightly coherent, Kára sat down and began to explain to him the steps in recovering not only from death, but having his soul dragged through dimensions that even she didn't understand. Since his spirit had experienced the freeness of Valhalla, Pietro was going to have to work for some time to once again bind his body and soul. He wasn't in danger, per say, but since no Valkyrie had ever brought a worthy soul back from the dead, she was expressing extreme caution. The more Kára spoke about meditating, 'centering the self,' and finding spiritual and physical harmony, the more Pietro's brows furrowed. He'd long ago renounced the idea of those methods being of any use, and had no idea what was involved in them. He looked to Wanda, who was surly in his head as well as Kára's, but she looked just as worried and confused as he felt._

" _Come with me."_

 _Everyone in the room turned to look at Emilia, half-conscious, on her hospital bed. Though, she only looked at Pietro._

" _What? I-I don't understand," Pietro responded. His voice was rough, weak, and lacked its usual spark, but considering what'd he had endured, it was all but expected._

" _Come with me," Emilia repeated, smiling a little, and looking at Pietro with half-closed eyes. "When I can, I-I'm going back to my troupe…If you need a place to center your physical and spiritual self…There is truly no better place on Earth."_

 _The twins had never been apart for a period longer than 48 hours. So Pietro leaving with Emilia was hard on both of them. Pietro had initially refused to leave with Emilia, but Wanda saw how much her brother needed help, and how much the gypsy wanted to help. She somehow convinced him to leave with Emilia._

 _The brother and sister parted with a long, tight hug. They murmured to each other in their native language, and vowed to correspond at least once every three days; that was all Emilia could promise, due to the nomadic nature of the community and the unreliable technology signals in some of their favorite spots._

 _The blond boy and the brunette gypsy left a few days after the battle. They strode out of the former S.H.I.E.L.D. craft, hand in hand, onto the grass outside a small Turkish village._

* * *

 **Somewhere in a Forest in Morocco**

He never remembered a time in his life when he felt as at peace as he did right in that moment. The air was warm on his exposed skin, and there was a soft breeze ruffled his hair and created a pleasant sound from the wind chimes that hung within earshot. There were patches on the bed that were warmer than others; where the sunlight slipped directly through, rather than filtering through, the ethereal, sheer material that draped over him in a rather pointless tent.

The mattress behind the young man, basking in the calmness of the early morning, dipped with the slender weight of an equally young woman. She used her elbow to prop herself up, her stomach level with the young man's head. To gently prompt him awake, she moved her legs close to him, shifting her knees and shins over his back, poking his spine gently with her bare toes.

It wasn't long before he was fully awake, much to his dismay. Pietro showed his displeasure by grabbing the girl behind him by the waist and burying his face in her midsection, letting out a frustrated, throaty sound into her stomach. Emilia erupted into a fit of giggles, and gave his bare shoulder a smack when he didn't stop after a few seconds.

"Nooooo…" Pietro whined childishly, nuzzling his face into Emilia's ribs. "Don't make me wake up at this unGodly hour, _princessa_."

" _Princessa_ , eh?" She laughed, falling to her back on the mattress next to him. "My my my…You must _really_ not want to wake up if you're using such sweet words."

"I always use sweet words with you, _Sol-nyshka moyo_."

"Ha!" Emilia laughed once, easily remembering dozens of times they argued and swore at one another. She sighed, briefly enjoying the feeling of Pietro holding her in a tight, child-like, possessive grip as the warm Mediterranean sun shone down on them through the trees and the sheer material of the whimsical tent. "C'mon now, you _child_ , get up and let me go."

"No."

"Yes!"

"No."

" _Yes!_ "

"I have a twin sister, _Котёнок_ , do you really think I will give up so easily?" Pietro chuckled.

"Of course not!" Emilia huffed. "I guess I hoped that your time here would have made you less annoying!"

"I am not _annoying_ ," Pietro scoffed. "And even if it was, you find it to be a very _charming_ quality."

It didn't take long for Emilia and Pietro to find her nomadic troupe of misfits, and they gladly took Pietro in as one of their own. One of the many people in the troupe highly educated in spiritual matters would sit down with the Sokovian boy every few days and lead him through deep meditations. It was weeks before Pietro could go through them without Emilia behind him, siphoning off his kinetic energy. He was better at it now; instead of shifting constantly and twitching, he tapped a calm rhythm on his knees and kept his eyes closed. Emilia acknowledged that _that_ was the best the speedster was going to do, and was very proud of him.

Kára came for a brief visit about two months into their time together, and she was shocked to say the least. When Pietro was examined by Kára, she said that his human soul had no intention of going anywhere else anytime soon. He was doing so well, in fact, that Kára told him that if he kept up the meditation and grounding techniques, he could come back to the states and stay at the Avenger's compound; with Wanda.

 _That_ made Emilia and Pietro have a tough conversation. Neither was very good at the emotional aspects of relationships, so there was a lot of awkward silences, intense gazes, and casual, lingering touches. Ultimately, Pietro chose to stay with Emilia for a while longer, until Kára was convinced that he was 100% OK. Once he got to that point, another the pair agreed to have another conversation to reevaluate their situation.

Right now, their situation was intimately strange, with them sharing caravans, tents, and even a bed when the circumstances required it. And yes; more than on kiss had been had in fleeting moments of romance that usually dissolved into an argument in shouted Russian or Ukrainian dialects. Scenes like the current one—Pietro half dressed, holding tightly to Emilia who was not fully dressed either, on the bed they had shared the night before as they teased each other—were common.

"Why did you wake me up, Emmie?" Pietro asked finally, reaching up to brush hair away from her face. He tucked it behind her ear, then let the backs of his fingers trail gently over her cheek and jaw.

"Kára called," Emilia told him, leaning into his hand slightly, and lazily threading a hand through his lengthy, fluffy, sleep ruffled hair. "She wants us in Spain."

"Why?" Pietro sighed, thoroughly enjoying the gypsy girl's hand pulling through his hair; specifically, the way her nails gently scraped over his scalp.

"She wants you to pretend to be a wounded Russian soldier for the production she's putting together," Emilia answered in a casual, dismissive tone. They had both been kept informed of the plans in motion.

"She does know I am not Russian, yes?" Pietro half-scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"She thinks that Bucky will believe it all better if everyone around him isn't American," Emilia rattled off. "And, you speak Sokovian. That's a dialect that the Winter Soldier doesn't speak, but it sounds enough like Russian, so Bucky might believe it's Russian."

"Should I find this offensive?" Pietro chuckled.

"I don't know, maybe," Emilia shrugged. "I wouldn't be."

"Nothing offends you," the blond boy reminded her.

'I _can't_ let anything offend me," Emilia corrected him. "For God's sake—Look at this!"

She held her left arm in front of Pietro's face, showing the faded, warped black lettering on her skin. "How can I let stupid words offend me, when I'm walking around with this?"

Pietro took her hand in his, and pressed a kiss to the tattoo on her forearm. Then, he tucked it under his cheek, keeping a hold of her hand.

"But this isn't about me," Emilia said abruptly, taking her arm back. But she was unable to get her hand free from his. Pietro didn't show it often, but he had a very soft, caring side. It came out every time Emilia's tattoo came up, and it made the gypsy girl very uncomfortable. Very few people had ever shown affection towards her tattoo directly.

"Do you want to go to Spain?" Emilia asked after a moment, carding her fingers through his hair again.

"Maybe..." He sighed. "What about Wanda?"

"She's there," Emilia confirmed with a nod. "She wants you to come—she wants to see you, obviously—but if you choose to stay here, she more than understands."

The speedster sighed, and nuzzled his scruffy jaw against the back of Emilia's hand. "When would we have to leave?"

She shrugged. "Tomorrow, or the next day…or the next, or the next, or the next…" Emilia smiled when she felt Pietro smirk against her hand. "They plan to bring Bucky there in three weeks, so as long as we leave within fifteen days, we will be just fine."

Pietro sighed, again, and rolled on the bed so he could look directly at Emilia's beautiful, oddly elfin, ethereal face. "Alright…Why don't we go to Spain."

"Really? Are you sure, _Рыбочка_?"

"Yes, I am sure…I will pretend to be a wounded Russian soldier…" Pietro said with a growing smirk on his face. "But only if your pretend to be worried wife!"

* * *

 **A sneak peek of what's to come…**

 _The man on the hospital cot stirred from his slumber, induced by a familiar cocktail of drugs and absolute exhaustion. Groggily, he opened his eyes, and blinked several times to clear his gaze of the blurry haze that came over it. He raised his right hand to his face, and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. The motion pained his tired body, and he became aware of the splitting headache that felt like a hot iron was squeezing his head into a brick wall. It also picked up the feeling of gause thickly wrapped around his head._

 _He let out a little groan, pinched his eyes shut, and dropped his arm in a very ungraceful manner, so that it was draped awkwardly over his chest. The muffled, quiet voices of other men were like the sounds of a marching band going through his head._

 _"Ah, look who's awake," a feminine, soft voice said, pair with dainty footsteps that stopped by his side._

 _"Please…don't yell," the man croaked out, wincing at his own voice. "I feel like I have the world's worst hangover."_

 _The woman at his bedside gave a soft giggle; clearly, she was trying to keep it professional, but couldn't resist his wit. "Can you tell me where you are?"_

 _The man gave a heavy sigh, wincing again at his painful ribs. He opened his eyes just enough to see brick walls, and the blurry shapes of bed screens, and other, slow moving and laid up men. "…Hospital…" he finally sighed, blinking slightly, trying to clear his vision. "I…I musta' hurt myself bad, huh?"_

 _"That's one way to put it," the woman, a nurse, said. There was some slight rustling, as if from paper, and the man guess she was looking over her clipboard._

 _"What's today?" He asked in a slurred voice._

 _"Pardon?"_

 _"It's prol'ly past the fourteenth, huh?" He sighed, a frown on his full lips. "Damn…Can't give my girl a good Valentine's Day…It was Valentine's Day I missed, right?"_

 _"You suffered a massive head injury, it's understandable that you'd be confused," the nurse told him gently._

 _"Is my memory any kinds a screwed up?" He asked, looking up towards the nurse. His blue eyes were oddly innocent and childlike, waiting patiently for an answer._

 _"Well, there's an easy way to check," she told him with a smile. The man raised his brows slightly, growing less patient._

 _"What is your name, soldier?"_

 _There was a heavy pause as his sluggish, half-drugged mind came up with an answer._

 _"S-Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes…But, you can call me Bucky."_


	43. Chapter 43: Bucky (Pt 1)

**Another chapter! Yay! This is a little shorter, so, sorry about that. But it's a pretty interesting chapter, if I do say so myself. More will be explained in the next chapter, but guess who's back! *excited little squeals***

 **Love you to crumbs, cupcakes!**

 **~Christianne**

 **PS~ I'll bet that some extra reviews will help me update faster!**

* * *

The man on the hospital cot stirred from his slumber, induced by a familiar cocktail of drugs and absolute exhaustion. Groggily, he opened his eyes, and blinked several times to clear his gaze of the blurry haze that came over it. He raised his right hand to his face, and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. The motion pained his tired body, and he became aware of the splitting headache that felt like a hot iron was squeezing his head into a brick wall. It also picked up the feeling of gause thickly wrapped around his head.

He let out a little groan, pinched his eyes shut, and dropped his arm in a very ungraceful manner, so that it was draped awkwardly over his chest. The muffled, quiet voices of other men were like the sounds of a marching band going through his head.

"Ah, look who's awake," a feminine, soft voice said, pair with dainty footsteps that stopped by his side.

"Please…don't yell," the man croaked out, wincing at his own voice. "I feel like I have the world's worst hangover."

The woman at his bedside gave a soft giggle; clearly, she was trying to keep it professional, but couldn't resist his wit. "Can you tell me where you are?"

The man gave a heavy sigh, wincing again at his painful ribs. He opened his eyes just enough to see brick walls, and the blurry shapes of bed screens, and other, slow moving and laid up men. "…Hospital…" he finally sighed, blinking slightly, trying to clear his vision. "I…I musta' hurt myself bad, huh?"

"That's one way to put it," the woman, a nurse, said. There was some slight rustling, as if from paper, and the man guess she was looking over her clipboard.

"What's today?" He asked in a slurred voice.

"Pardon?"

"It's prol'ly past the fourteenth, huh?" He sighed, a frown on his full lips. "Damn…Can't give my girl a good Valentine's Day…It was Valentine's Day I missed, right?"

"You suffered a massive head injury, it's understandable that you'd be confused," the nurse told him gently.

"Is my memory any kinds a screwed up?" He asked, looking up towards the nurse. His blue eyes were oddly innocent and childlike, waiting patiently for an answer.

"Well, there's an easy way to check," she told him with a smile. The man raised his brows slightly, growing less patient.

"What is your name, soldier?"

There was a heavy pause as his sluggish, half-drugged mind came up with an answer.

"S-Sargent James Buchanan Barnes…But, you can call me Bucky."

The answer seemed to satisfy the nurse, because she could hardly contain the wide smile that spread across her lips as she looked down at her clipboard.

"So, what's the verdict, Nurse…?" Bucky trailed off, waiting for the pretty Asian nurse to say her name.

"Wen," she answered him, then glanced at the clipboard. "I must say, sergeant, you have a quite impressive amount of injuries."

"Yeah, well, that's what happens when you fall off a train," Bucky sighed, painfully bringing his right hand to his face again to scratch his nose, then press it to his temple, where most of the pain seemed to be radiating from.

"P-Pardon me?" Nurse Wen said, her young face contorted into a look that was half surprise, and almost looked scared.

"Well, I don't think I'm bleeding anywhere," Bucky reasoned through a sigh. "So I wasn't shot…Our last little jaunt was to a train that ran along a cliff…I must'a fallen off a train, right? Or did the clonk to my head knock some memories loose?"

The nurse glanced around quickly, not that Bucky noticed; his eyes were painfully screwed shut again. "Yes, you did fall from the train…I just wasn't expecting you to recall it so… _casually_."

"Oh."

Nurse Wen looked down at her papers, cleared her throat, then began to read off Bucky's report. "You sustained massive head trauma from the fall, along with a head laceration approximately six inches in length. It was found to be superficial, and Dr. Kowalski stitched it up."

"I'm not gonna have a scar from that, am I?" Bucky groaned, sounding like a child.

Nurse Wen laughed softly. "The cut was behind your hairline, so even if it does leave a scar, you won't see it unless you cut your hair short."

"Well _that's_ not gonna happen anytime soon," Bucky chuckled out, wincing at the pain it caused his ribs. "What about my chest? Hurt's 'ta breathe."

"You broke almost every rib on your left side, and fractured several on the right," Nurse Wen told him. Bucky liked her voice; it was all feminine, smart, soft and nice. "They're taped up tight, and should heal without any problems…"

Bucky noticed when the nurse trailed off, and he lowered his hand from his face to look at her. "What's wrong, doll?" He asked, his voice apprehensive. He'd gone to enough doctor's appointments with Steve to know that when a medical professional trailed off like that, they had sumthin' awful to say.

"When-When you landed on the ground," Nurse Wen began, swallowing down a pit in her throat. "Almost your entire weight landed on your left arm."

Bucky looked down, and saw his left arm was wrapped up in thick bandages. Sanded wood rods were on his forearm, and he saw at least one poking out of the gauze atop his bent bicep. He involuntarily flexed the muscles in the immobilized arm, and choked at the amount of pain it put him in.

"You broke nearly every bone in your left arm," Nurse Wen continued shakily. "Tendons were torn, nerves separated, you're-you're forearm was all but _shattered_ at one end-"

"Whys 'yer voice shakin'?" Bucky cut her off, his brows furrowing half in pain, half in wondering.

Nurse Wen seemed to hesitate; her dark eyes looked anywhere but him. They slowly went back to Bucky and she spoke. "I…I have encountered soldiers who have not been as…as _calm_ , as you when finding out of their injuries."

Bucky snorted. "Yeah, well, they're not on enough 'a _this_ , then," he chuckled, letting his right arm flop over the side of the bed to nudge the metal pole at his bedside. Atop it was the glorious morphine drip that drizzled through the tube that ended in his right arm. "My gal tried to explain what this stuff does to a person, why it's so damn great when you're hurtin.' She tried to make it simple, but I was on the stuff when I asked, so I don't remember much 'a what she said."

Nurse Wen gave another soft giggle, but Bucky, even in a drug-induced haze, could see she was still uncomfortable. "I know how some'a these types a guys can be, doll, but don't worry 'bout me bein' like that," he gave her a goofy little grin. "I already got a great girl, and she tells me that when I can't move around all I do is eat and sleep. Should make your job pretty easy, right?"

"Yes…Yes, I guess it would," Nurse Wen said, her cheeks tinged the lightest shade of pink. He was just such a charming man, even though he was hardly doing anything improper or remotely like flirting. She cleared her throat before speaking again, "Can you rate your pain on a scale of one to ten for me, Sargent?"

"Ugh…That's the worst part of hospitals," Bucky groaned, trying to get into a more comfortable position. "People callin' me _sergeant_ instead of _Bucky_."

"Your pain, Bucky?" Nurse Wen said, laughing slightly at his oddly childish behavior, most likely due to the high level of pain medication he was on.

"I dunno…An eight, maybe," he sighed, then moved his left arm slightly. He opened his eyes wide, gasped, and jammed his head into the pillow. "Ok! Ok! I wanna change my answer! Ten! My pain is at a ten! Can the scale go higher than ten! Cause it should! It really really really should!"

There were some light chuckles from the other side of the room, and Nurse Wen sent a sharp look to the men laughing, and it stopped.

"Alright, I think it'd be best to up your dosage of morphine," she said, putting down her clipboard. She fiddled with the drip for a moment, then went to a set of metal drawers. She leaned close, and unlocked it with a key she wore around her neck.

"Hey…Hey, where's Anna?" Bucky asked; his spasm of pain caused him to become exhausted.

"Pardon?" Nurse Wen asked, filling a syringe with clear liquid.

"My-My girl, Annabelle Brightman," Bucky further explain, rubbing his temples again. "Is she here? Is-Is she coming?"

"There is a transport of people on their way from London," Nurse Wen offered. She smiled a little, looked around, and came closer to Bucky like she was about to tell him a secret. "Rumor has it that _Howard Stark_ is coming!"

A look of relief came over Bucky's face, and it only increased when Wen injected the needle of extra morphine into the IV tube. "Lemme know when that plane lands, would'ja, doll?" Bucky slurred as the morphine took effect.

Nurse Wen giggled slightly, and nodded. "Of course, Sargent Barnes."

As she turned to leave, Bucky called out to her in a drowsy, slurred voice. "Thaw' I told you 'ta call me Bucky!" The nurse laughed softly, and when she turned to respond, Bucky was already knocked out by the morphine again.

* * *

 _It was early in the morning, and Anna was woken up by the soft, quiet sound of her phone. She groaned, rolled away from James' warm embrace, and grabbed her phone. After squinting from the bright light of her screen, Anna opened up the text message her phone alerted her to._

 _It caused a shaky breath to leave her lips, which parted slightly upon reading the message._

 _Anna quickly locked the phone, tossed it back on the side table and rolled back to James when he stirred under the covers._

" _Wh-Whas wrong?" James asked in a cracked, sleepy voice. His eyelids were heavy, and struggled to open._

" _Nothing," Anna said quickly, putting a hand on James' stubbly cheek. She pulled him back to his pillow, and let her thumb trail circles over his skin. "Nothin's wrong, baby…Just sleep."_

 _His eyes were half open, and his brows furrowed as he looked at Anna lying next to him. "No…No, sumthin's wrong, Anna…What's wrong?"_

 _Anna's mouth opened as if she were going to speak, but it closed after a moment. She gnawed on her lip briefly, then scooted closer to James. When she was pressed against him, Anna put her other hand on his face as well, and pulled his face closer to hers for a kiss. James was a little surprised, but he wasn't upset in the slightest. This kiss just seemed to feel different to him; it was like Anna was desperate; this was a_ _ **desperate**_ _kiss, like she wasn't sure when they'd be together again._

 _Once they parted, James was much more awake, and very confused. "Why'd you do that, Anna?"_

" _Promise me something, ok?" She asked, her fingers playing with the lengthy dark hair at his temples. "If Bucky does come out, and you're pushed to the back of your own mind, promise me that you'll stay."_

" _Stay?"_

" _Don't force yourself out of existence," Anna clarified. "Promise me that you'll always be in the back of his mind…Promise me that you'll be there if I need you."_

 _James was a little surprised, unsure how to act when Anna looked and acted like this. He simply nodded. That seemed to be an acceptable answer, because Anna let his face go, and curled up in his chest. Usually, Anna held James when they slept, but this was one of the rare times James held Anna. He gingerly wrapped his arms, flesh and metal, around her small frame, and gently held her to his chest._

" _I promise, Anna," James whispered into her hair. Anna shivered. "I promise I'll always be there if you need me."_

* * *

The next time Bucky opened his eyes, he felt a bit better. His gaze wasn't hazy, and his head wasn't throbbing, but his shoulder still _hurt like a mother_. Bucky sat up on his own, and took a better look around the hospital room he was in.

The air was cool, and just a little bit damp. That, paired with the windows that were high up, near the ceiling, told Bucky that he was in the basement of a building. There were ten beds in the room, neatly made and separated by screens. Bucky's bed was along the wall facing the door, and there was one empty bed to his right, and three to his left. There were only two other men in the hospital room; two black men in beds across from him. One was about his age, the other a little older. The older man had one leg propped up on pillows and wrapped up tight, and a bandage around his head that covered one eye. The other man wasn't wearing a shirt, due to the bandages that wrapped around his chest from his waistband to his collar bone.

"Hey, Sleepin' Beauty!" The younger man chuckled, shuffling a deck of cards.

"Yeah, you have a nice two day nap, _Commando_?" The older man said, using the abbreviated name of Bucky's team teasingly.

Bucky grunted, and slowly stood up. After stretching his legs, he grabbed the metal pole that gave him morphine in one hand, and started walking lazily.

"Where you think you're going in shit shape like that?" One called.

"I've been asleep for two days. Where'd'ya think I'm goin'?" Bucky half-snapped back in a sleepy voice.

"Soldiers aren't allowed in the kitchen," the other one sighed.

"I gotta take a piss," Bucky said in an irritated tone, before opening the bathroom door and pulling the IV pole in. He didn't bother closing the door; the bathroom was on the other side of the room, and it was just them soldiers in there anyway.

Once he'd finished his business, Bucky took a look at himself in the mirror over the sink. He wrinkled his nose at what he saw. He had half a beard on his face that covered his cheeks, which had hollowed some, like his eyes. It reminded him of what he looked like after getting back from Italy. Bucky turned his attention to the bandage on his head to think of something else. He gently poked around his right temple, where most of the gauze was, and wrinkled his nose in slight pain. Using his nails, Bucky picked a few layers of gauze up, and winced at the dark red stain that soaked through the layers still stuck to his head. Over all, he didn't think he looked that bad. He'd certainly been in worse shape. Not that he cared what shape he was in for himself; Bucky cared what shape he was in for his Glow.

Leaving the bathroom, Bucky really didn't want to go back to his stiff mattress. He stopped in front of the two other men, and leaned on his IV pole. "So, you fella's got names?" He asked casually.

"We do. PFC Wilson Arkwright," the younger man said, arranging the hand of cards he held. "Old-timer over there is Rhodey."

"Hey, it's Specialist A. James Rhodes to you," the older man, 'Rhodey,' snapped back. "Punk-ass kid…Whoever bumped Wilson here to First Class needs a real talkin' to."

Bucky chuckled once, smiling a little. It was nice to be around the friendly teasing that came with being around comrades. "Guess you know who I am."

"Damn right we do!" Wilson chuckled, taking a card from the deck that sat on an overturned crate between the men's beds. He sat back, and looked at Bucky with his uncovered eye, and a grin on his face. "Sargent Bucky Barnes, Howling Commando."

Bucky chuckled once, a little embarrassed, and reached behind him to grab a chair that sat at the foot of one of the beds. The two men seemed a little shocked when Bucky spun the chair around, and sat backwards in it, leaning his aching ribs and injured arm on the metal back of the chair. When Wilson and Rhodey just looked at Bucky with wide, slightly surprised eyes, he spoke up.

"So, you gonna deal me in? Or are we just gonna sit here and slowly lose our minds 'cause a cabin fever?"

* * *

 _James woke up when the bed jostled suddenly. He wasn't too concerned, because Anna would sometimes abruptly get out of bed to get something to eat or drink, or to use the bathroom. His eyes snapped open when he heard a muffled voice, and sounds of a struggled. He snapped his eyes open, and saw the very last thing he'd ever want to see._

 _Anna was standing by the bed, and a figure in all black was holding her back. Her wrists were tightly bound in front of her with plastic zipcuffs, limiting her ability to move. There was one arm around her midsection, holding her back from James, and the figure's other hand was clapped firmly over her mouth, muffling her voice. Her eyes, through her messy blonde hair, were wide and panicked as she looked at James._

 _The dark haired man hardly had a chance to become enraged before he felt several pairs of hands on his body. They turned him on his back, and held down his arms and legs. A yell grew in his throat, but it was cut off by a forearm coming to rest on his throat, choking him. He fought and fought, but it didn't seem to do much good._

" _No! No! N-!" James began to gasp out as he saw an object coming down towards his face. He jerked his head around wildly, trying to avoid the stiff muzzle that a faceless man was trying to lower onto his face. Anna let out a loud, muffled scream that sounded like his name, making James look at her._

 _With his head to the side to see Anna, a hand smacked to the side of his head, and a massive amount of weight was put on the side of his skull, pressing it to the mattress. Anna was trying to get out of the hold the figure in black had on her, but she was roughly jerked around like a ragdoll. James could see tears on her face._

 _James' mind went into survival mode. He stopped fighting the hands holding him down, and just looked at Anna. He tried to memorize how she looked. The color of her eyes, the gentle slope of her nose, the delicate curve of her hips; he didn't want to forget her again._

 _When the stiff material was shoved over his face, Anna lurched forward and screamed against the hand on her mouth. James felt something wet fall from his left eye, down his cheek and stop at the line of the muzzle, which cut into the flesh of his face._

 _A second figure in black came next to Anna, and James' brows furrowed. The second man grabbed Anna by the hair, and wrenched her neck to the side. Anna was breathing heavily under the hand, and struggled to get away._

 _The dim light from the open windows glinted off something slim and metallic in the second figure's hand. A syringe. A metal syringe. James knew what would be in that syringe, and began fighting against the hands holding him down, but not for long._

 _James hated the muzzle over his face for a hundred reasons, one of which was the harsh electric shock that it sent through him whenever the person holding the remote wished. It kept his mouth shut, keeping him from screaming, but he let out an animalistic, muffled howl as he thrashed and arched up off the bed from the voltage coursing through him, starting at his face._

 _When the shock ended, he slumped back on the mattress, and tried to force his vision to clear._

 _When it did, he saw the syringe being pulled from Anna's neck. The figures threw her on the mattress like she was a sack of potatoes, and went out of his line of sight. James looked at Anna, and strained his ears to hear her heartbeat through the buzzing caused by the shock. He could hardly hear it._

 _He tried to say her name, but it came out as muffled whimpers through the muzzle._

 _Anna's eyes were unfocused and half-closed as she looked at James. A drowsy smile spread across her lips, like she was trying to calm him down._

" _Iss…Iss gonna be ok…" She slurred out through labored breaths. James choked out her name again, but she couldn't understand him. "Iss gonna be ok," she said again._

 _James felt his body being lifted off the bed, and his feet hit the floor. He tried to get back to the bed, but his body was weak and disoriented from the shock, allowing him to be pulled away from Anna on the bed. He screamed for her behind his muzzle, and could only watched wide eyed as Anna's shoulders slowly stopped rising and falling. She was dying, and he was being forced away by faceless figures._

 _His anger found some way to overcome his shocked body, and James threw his head back, cracking his skull against the nose of one attacker. He got free of the other attackers, and scrambled to the bed._

 _James knelt at Anna's side, and took her hand in his. He shook her shoulders, and tried to get her to move._

 _He was shocked again._

 _Voltage hundreds of times higher than a cattle prod or taser arched through James, causing him to fall to the floor and release Anna's hand. James ended up on his back, recovering. Muffled voices spoke about moving him._

 _He started to cry._

 _Anna's arm hung limply off the side of the bed, and James cried at the sight._

 _As he was being hauled away, James let his eyes close as he succumbed the unconsciousness the people who murdered Anna were trying to force on him._

 _A thought Anna would be horrified to hear crossed James' mind._

 _He wouldn't fight to remember what little he had this time. He'd let himself be wiped._

 _Being a mindless weapon would be better than remembering Anna in all her glory, and knowing she died on his watched._

 _Killing on command would be better than knowing Anna was dead._

 _Not knowing Anna ever existed was better than living without her._

* * *

Bucky was eating his breakfast of mushy oatmeal when the door out to the rest of the hospital opened. He looked up, glad for a distraction from his horse feed, and broke out into a wide grin when he saw who was at the door.

"Hey there," he said, still smiling.

The blonde woman at the door still hand one hand on the door knob, and looked at Bucky with wide eyes, and half-parted lips.

When she didn't come to him, Bucky pushed himself up a little bit on his bed, and looked at Anna with furrowed brows. "What's wrong, Annie?"

She responded by clumsily shutting the door and leaning her back on it, still clutching the door knob desperately.

Bucky chuckled once, mostly to hide his concern. "You look like you saw a ghost, Glow."

When he said her pet name, Anna choked out a sob, and ran to Bucky. She crashed into the side of his bed, sat half on his lap, and grabbed him in a tight hug. Bucky was startled by Anna's reaction to seeing him, and immediately wrapped his uninjured right arm around Anna's shoulders as she cried into his neck.

"Hey…Hey, darlin' it's all ok…I'm fine, promise," Bucky whispered into her hair. He glanced over Anna's shoulder at Wilson and Rhodey. Wilson was playing a game of solitaire with his oh-so-beloved deck of cards, and Rhodey was intently reading the newspaper. Bucky appreciated the men trying to give them some privacy, well, as much as they could considering they were bedridden. He caught Wilson's gaze, and tipped his chin up in a half-nod. Wilson gave an identical nod back, and returned his attention to his cards.

"I-I-"Anna choked out through sobs. "I-I thought I lost you!"

Bucky chuckled once, and pressed a kiss to his gal's hairline. "Nah…It'll take more than a HYDRA train and a cliff to keep me from comin' back to you, Glow."

"I t-told you tha-that sumthin' bad was gonna happen…" Anna whimpered into his shoulder, dampening his skin with her tears. "I-I had that feelin' in-in the pit 'a my stomach, 'me-'member?"

"Yeah, yeah darlin' I remember," Bucky said soothingly, rubbing Anna's back in an effort to calm her. He smiled a little as he briefly reveled in the feeling of her silk linen blouse under his fingers. "Wanna know what else I remember?"

For some reason, that caused Anna to cry even harder. Bucky waited patiently for her to calm down, and when she stopped sobbing, he put his hand on her face, cupping her jaw. He pulled her back from his shoulder and leaned down to be eyelevel with her.

"You were suppost'ta give these back to me when I got back," Bucky said playfully, hooking his pinky finger around the ball chain that hung around Anna's neck.

Sniffling, Anna nodded quickly. She wiped her nose on the back of her hand, and began struggling with the dog tags around her neck. Bucky did what he could to help with his free hand, and eventually got the chain and ovals off of Anna's neck, and out from under her glorious mess of cork screw, blonde curls. Anna held the dog tags in both of her hands, and shakily put them around Bucky's neck.

She rested her hands gently on Bucky's chest, and tearfully stared at the dog tags.

"Hey, Glow, what have I told you about lookin' down?" Bucky said, playfully teasing her as he put a couple of fingers under her chin, pulling her head up. She just swallowed. "Keep those pretty brown doe eyes up, darlin', so the world can see 'em."

Anna nodded quickly, and sniffled again. "I-I-…Bucky I was _so scared_ that I _lost you_ _forever_."

Bucky gave her one of those soft, heart melting smiles. He let her face go, and maneuvered himself and Anna on the small hospital cot so they were both sitting on the mattress. Anna curled up to Bucky's right side, and allowed his left hand to trail over her body leisurely.

"I'm right here, Annie, you didn't lose me," he whispered in her ear, resting his forehead on Anna's skull, allowing his lips to be right by her ear. "Now, say it back to me."

A weak smile spread over Anna's lips.

"You-You're right here…I didn't lose you," she mumbled.

"Good…" Bucky said teasingly, pressing another kiss to her head.

"Now, I have my Glow next to me, my dog tags back, and when I'm feelin' better, we'll go back to London, sleep in and have waffles in bed," Bucky said firmly, trying to reassure her.

"With syrup?" Anna asked with a shaky smile.

" _Of course_ with syrup!" Bucky laughed, grinning wide.

The lovers sat in silence for a few minutes, and Bucky spent that time looking at how desperately Anna was holding on to him.

"Everything is going to be ok, Anna," he said lowly, looking seriously in her eyes. She looked down and nodded, seemingly not believing him. Cupping the back of her neck, Bucky forced Anna's face back up. "Hey, are you hearin' me?"

"Yeah…" Anna breathed out, swallowing again. "You…You're saying that-that-"

"I'm sayin' that once I heal up, everything is going to go back to normal," Bucky cut Anna off.

"Normal," Anna repeated weakly.

"Yeah, normal," Bucky said, leaning back against the metal headboard of his cot. "Just a soldier and his gal fighting the good fight against HYDRA, Nazis, and people who think that Glenn Miller _isn't_ the best composer of this day and age."

Satisfied that Anna was on the mend, Bucky let most of his still aching body go slack.

"Oh, one more thing," he spoke up.

"Hm?" Anna mumbled against his skin.

"Happy late Valentine's Day, Glow."


	44. Chapter 44: Bucky (Pt 2)

**Hey my cupcakes!**

 **So, I wanted to take a quick second to explain just a thing or two.  
~The italicized portion of the last chapter where Anna 'died' was fabricated to put James into a fragile, breakable mental state  
~This chapter is a little short and kinda fillery, but I have something big coming up, and wanted to show some lighter stuff before this.  
~Yes, this is 'lighter stuff'  
~As you may have guessed, I'm not going to be following the Civil War plotline, but elements of the (AWESOME) movie will be incorporated. **

**Enjoy the chapter, even though its a tiny-bit unedited!**

 **Love 'ya my cupcakes! ;)**

 **~Christianne**

* * *

Omniscient POV

Anna and Bucky were cuddling comfortably on his lumpy hospital cot, with neither saying much. Once the blonde had calmed down some, Bucky introduced Wilson and Rhodey. They greeted her politly, and teased Bucky good naturedly about landing such a smart, pretty, sophisticated girl when he was dumb enough to fall off a damn train; the four shared a good laugh at that, then lapsed into silence. Wilson continued playing solitaire, Rhodey was systematically going through the newspaper section by section, Anna played with Bucky's dog tags, her head resting on his chest, while Bucky absent mindedly trailed the fingers of his good hand over Anna's scalp and through her hair.

All four in the room turned when the door opened. In came two uniformed men. One was blond, tall and broad shouldered wore an impeccable olive uniform marred only by the sleeve of his shirt and jacket pushed up, revealing a bandage thickly and tightly wrapped around his right wrist. The other man was also blond, tall and broad shouldered, though his hair was a shade or two darker than the other man's, he appeared leaner and shorter than him as well and wore a white coat instead of an olive one while holding a clipboard.

"Steve," Bucky greeted with a grin. "How 'ya doin', pal?"

"I'd say he's doin' pretty well considering he followed you off that train," the unnamed, assumed doctor, said with a chuckle laced lightly with condescension. Steve rolled his eyes, rubbed his bandaged right wrist, and gave the doctor a look.

"You fell off a train _on purpose_?" Bucky asked Steve, not believing what he was hearing.

"Hey! Don't scold him about it!" Anna said, swatting Bucky's chest gently. "He pulled your body outta freezing water! Steve is the one who kept you alive until the rest of the guys got you!"

"Listen to your gal, Buck," Steve chimed in, smirking slightly. "She really makes up for all the stupid crammed in your head."

"Doc? Think you can explain to the good captain here that, if anything, fallin' off a cliff would'a _gotten rid_ of any stupid I had?" Bucky asked seriously, earning another slightly harder, smack on the chest by Anna.

"Sorry Sargent Barnes, I'm afraid that's not how… _stupid_ , works," the doctor sighed while examining Bucky's drip. "I'm Dr. Kowalski, in case you don't remember."

"Have we met before?" Bucky asked, wracking his, still hurting, head to place the man. He found that when he tried to think back, almost everything was in a drug-induced haze. He must have been on a new dosage or cocktail of pain meds; he never had a hard time recalling stuff when he was on straight-up morphine before.

"I stitched up the cut on your head," Dr. Kowalski said, looking over the clipboard. "You were in and out of consciousness. I wasn't sure what you would remember when you woke up. Evidently, you remember nothing about that. It may be a good thing, actually, because it was a pretty bloody, slippery mess, and you _really_ didn't help it at all."

"Did he keep squirming around?" Anna asked, raising a brow knowingly.

"Yes, yes he did," Dr. Kowalski confirmed with a slightly amused smile.

"Hey! Who in their right mind can sit still when someone is going at your face with a needle like a grandma doin' needlepoint?" Bucky exclaimed with an expression on his face that Anna thought resembled a pout.

"Steve was able to sit still while Kára stitched up his busted hand," Dr. Kowalski reasoned with a shrug, taking Bucky's wrist with a few fingers, taking his pulse. He kept his eyes on the clock over the door.

"Speakin' a Steve's busted hand," Bucky said, looking from Anna to Steve with narrowed eyes. "How come when _I_ fell I broke half my body, but when _you_ fell, _you_ only have a busted hand?"

"Steve had his shield, and the vibranium lessened the force of impact significantly. He was holding the shield with his right hand, so that's why it's busted up," Anna explained with a sigh, like it was mundane, casual information. "He really bruised up most of his torso and had a cut on his leg, but they're almost completely healed by now, since he heals a little faster than you."

" _Ah_ ," Bucky said sarcastically, a frustrated look on his face. "Great."

"Don't worry," Dr. Kowalski said confidently. "You'll heal up good as new, given time."

"Thanks Doc," Bucky sighed, putting his hand back on Anna's shoulder, rubbing his thumb over her blouse.

"Captain," Dr. Kowalski said, turning his attention to Steve. "If you could fill them in while I check on my other patients?"

"Yes sir," Steve said with a nod, which the doctor returned before leaving for Wilson.

"Fill us in on what?" Anna asked curiously. Bucky was surprised; Anna usually had her finger on the pulse of wherever they were.

"Another soldier is comin' in here," Steve explained. The basement wing of the hospital building was for the long term patients; guys who wouldn't be on their feet in a week or less. "A Russian, I heard."

Bucky nodded, and made a brief sound of discontent when Anna sighed and sat up from his side. "A new patient means Dr. Kowalski probably wants me out of his hair for a while."

"That he does," Steve confirmed with a nod. "I overheard him upstairs, and thought I'd come get Anna myself, take 'er to breakfast or sumthin'."

"Takin' my Glow for breakfast, pal?" Bucky laughed teasingly. "Bit forward, don't'cha think?"

Anna rolled her eyes and pressed a kiss to Bucky's nose. " _He's_ taking me to get breakfast 'cause _your_ stupid behind fell off a train."

"Punishing me for being hurt? C'mon darlin'! Don't kick a man when he's down!" Bucky continued to playfully pout.

Anna smoothed Bucky's hair, and pressed one last kiss to Bucky's cheek before leaving with Steve.

Just as the blonds left, two medics came in, carrying a stretcher that held a very irritated Russian. Bucky couldn't understand what he was saying, but he was pretty sure the guy just insulted somebody's mother.

"Ok, Ok, calm down now, won't 'ya, Krupin?" Dr. Kowalski sighed, standing at the foot of the cot the young man was dropped on. "You're gonna be around these fellas for a few weeks, and they'll end up doin' God knows what to you unless you start speakin' English and actin' like a normal person!"

Krupin, the apparent name of the Russian, responded with a snappy, angry line of Russian garble. Wilson gave a slight laugh at Krupin's unknown retort. Rhodey just shook his head and rolled his good eye. Bucky found it a little hard to hide his amusement as well.

Dr. Kowalski shoved pillows under the thick plaster cast that surrounded the Russian's right leg and foot, and left after checking the IV once more. "Play nice, boys," he called as he closed the door behind him.

It was Bucky who broke the silence that had fallen. "So, Krupin, was it?" He asked. "You gotta first name?"

The Russian didn't appear to be all that much younger than Wilson and Bucky (who were quite close in age), but had a much more boyish look to him. He really needed a haircut; the brown and dirty blond hair he had was pushed back from his face and jammed behind his ears. It appeared that at one point he had a well-groomed mustache, but it had been several days, or maybe several weeks, since he'd shaven.

In response to Bucky's comment, Krupin gave him a sidelong glance and scoffed at the older man (and higher ranking officer). He dug a small red book from under his pillow, took a stubby pencil in hand, and awkwardly shifted to his side so he could right.

"Fine, if 'ya wanna be like that," Bucky grumbled, straining his right arm to grasp the clipboard Dr. Kowalski had left on the table between their cots, instead of hooking it over the end of Krupin's cot.

"Nice to meet 'ya, _Corporal Ilya Krupin_ ," Bucky said cheerfully after glancing at the top of the clipboard. Wilson and Rhodey slowly abandoned their tasks to pay attention, and Ilya Krupin put his pencil down and looked at Bucky with an irritated gaze.

Bucky continued to read from Krupin's medical and military files. "Twenty-three years old, enlisted in the…the US Army," he trailed off, looking at Krupin with curious eyes. "The doc said you were Russian."

Ilya went back to his notebook. "My home is Belleville, Pennsylvania," he answered in reluctant English, heavy with an Eastern European accent. There was a pause, and it became clear to Ilya that the men wanted more of an explanation. "Belleville is my home…But my birthplace is Novozybkov. A Russian city 350 kilometers East from Belarus."

"Belarus," Bucky repeated, brows raised. He heard stories from guys way back when about what a shit storm the region was, both militarily and politically speaking. "When did you go to the US?"

Ilya paused. "We fled in 1940," he finally said. "I was sixteen."

"How'd you end up back here?" Wilson chimed in.

"I enlisted on my eighteenth birthday…I speak multiple languages, so I was considered an _asset_ ," Krupin said, frowning at the word and practically spitting it out. "I translated communications between Soviet and Allied commanders and such…My job was to coordinate between the two."

Bucky let out a low whistle. He knew how multi-lingual young men, especially native speakers, were valued by their COs. "Gotta a pretty nice gig, huh? Better than the trenches."

Krupin just shrugged. "I would rather be in the _trenches_ than _here_ with a broken leg."

Bucky chuckled, and Rhodey snorted. "Buddy, I think we all feel that way."

With that, the Russian gave a nod, then rolled to his other side. With his back facing Bucky, he continued to jot things down in the small red notebook. Taking the hint, Bucky threw the clipboard back on the table and settled back onto his pillows. It was only a matter of seconds before his mind drifted to his girl.

"Wilson, Rhodey," Bucky said, getting the attention of the two black men. He asked his question with a small smirk on his face. "Either 'a you fella's have a gal waitin' for 'ya back home?"

Both men smiled at the question, and the conversation it would inevitably lead to.

"Nah, man," Rhodey spoke first, taking another section of newspaper. "I was eighteen when I signed up to fight in the war, back in 1918. Been in the Army ever since. I wanted to climb the ranks, 'ya know? Make sumthin' of myself before I settle down. At some point, I guess the idea slipped my mind.

"Wait wait _wait_ ," Wilson said, holding up a hand while grinning. "You're sayin' that in almost _thirty years_ , you _never_ -"

" _No_ , I did _not_ say _that_ , you blue-assed chump," Rhodey cut Wilson off with a glare and a sharp look. "I have plenty of stories to tell you boys, but I'm thinkin' that a sweet 'ol romantic like Bucky here wanted to know about any _steady_ gals I had."

"That's what I was askin,' but that't not what you told me!" Bucky laughed, pressing his good hand hard to his ribs as he laughed with unrestrained might, his eyes and face lit with the amusement that all soldiers knew well; the kind of amusement that felt almost normal, like they weren't in a warzone.

"Fine then, funny-man," Rhodey snapped at Wilson, siting up better. "What 'bout you, huh? I don't see a ring on your skinny-ass finger. You livin' in sin or alone as sin?"

"Hey, my momma raised me better than that," Wilson snapped seriously, then rolled his eyes, mumbling something that sounded like ' _livin' in sin_ ,' followed by curse words. "And for your information, _Nosey_ _Nellie_ , I _don't_ have a gal waitin' for me."

"Aw, you poor lonely bastards," Bucky sighed with a teasing, mock sympathy and a smirk. He leaned back and folded his right arm behind his head and he settled back with a slightly smug satisfaction.

"Yeah, I meant to ask you, Barnes," Wilson said, an equally teasing and smug look on his face. "How the hell did a cowboy like you land a girl who went to _Colombia_?"

"Colombia?" Rhodey asked, looking at Wilson.

"Yeah, I asked Nurse Wen who the blonde was, she said she was some scientist working for Stark and had a degree from Colombia 'er sumthin'," Wilson explained.

"She has a doctorate in chemistry from Colombia," Bucky spoke up, smiling proudly. "Which means that she had more smarts in her left arm than you two numb-nuts have in your whole bodies together."

The men shared a laugh, and had almost quieted to silence before Bucky posed another question; he was a pretty talkative guy, after all. "What about you, Ilya? You got a girl back in Belleville?"

Krupin said something lowly in Russian that Bucky didn't understand.

"What was that, comrade?" Rhodey asked, taking up his paper again.

"I said…" Krupin trailed off briefly. "I said, no, not in Belleville."

Both Wilson and Rhodey accepted his answer as a no, but Bucky wasn't so quick to jump to conclusions.

* * *

It was hours later. The men had gone through their checkups with the lovely Nurse Wen and Dr. Kowalski, eaten their meals and slowly drifted to sleep to the tunes of some orchestra playing from the phonograph Anna sent down hours earlier, along with a small pile of records.

Wilson and Rhodey fell asleep first. Bucky thought Ilya was out too, but then a small, flickering light got his attention. The brunette pushed himself up, and saw that the young Russian had flicked a lighter, and precariously balanced it on the metal table next to him. The small flame gave off just enough light to write by.

Bucky settled back on his cot, and asked a hushed question. "So, what's her name, Red?"

" _Простите?_ " Ilya asked. The word was clearly Russian, but Bucky guessed by the tone it was akin to 'What?' or 'Pardon me?'

"The gal you got, what's her name?" Bucky clarified. "Tell me the story 'bout the girl you're writing about."

"How do you know I am writing about a girl?" Krupin asked in a hushed, defensive tone.

"I've been in this war for…Damn, it's gotta be five or six years now…It's a little blurry and mixed up in some places…My time in a HYDRA factory dragged on forever, but my days with Anna fly by…It's hard to keep track," Bucky paused his low rambling to yawn, then continued. "Anyway, my point is, I've seen plenty of guys write to or about their sweethearts."

Ilya sat up some, leaving the lighter lit and his book and pencil in his lap. "Why do you care that I have a-a woman?"

"Jeez, that's what you call the gal you're holdin' a torch for?" Bucky chuckled. He didn't get a response, so he kept talking. "I care about all the gals any 'a my Army brothers have…They're my sisters, in a way. It's my job to protect their fellas, so it just _makes sense_ to care."

Krupin didn't respond, instead he paged slowly through his little red book.

"C'mon," Bucky half-laughed. "Thoes two Joes are sleepin' like the dead with the pain meds they're on."

"It-It's personal," Ilya muttered under his breath.

"You know, I'm not gonna let you get any rest until you tell me 'bout your gal, Red," Bucky said, a smirk clear in his voice.

There was a long pause before Ilya began mumbling what Bucky would soon consider a very sad story. "There was a girl in Novozybkov, _Mariya_ …She's a gypsy, so she wasn't always there...But her troupe would stay in Novozybkov for the summer…It gets quite warm there in the summer, and we-we used to hold a large carnival, with her troupe would work. I can picture her in my village from the end of spring to the beginning of fall for as long as I can remember. I would show her around the nearby forest whenever we could. By the time we were thirteen, we-we were holding hands when we walked through the forest. We were planning our lives together, like children in love do, and…and we were happy. It was not long after Hitler invaded Poland that my father insisted on leaving. He was a _very_ cautious man…He died on our way through France, so only my mother, sister and I made it to Belleville. Mariya wrote me—it must have been four or five years ago, now—and said that most of her family and troupe had been killed by Nazis. I sent her money to get her to the United States, but months passed and…and she never came."

"You enlisted to go find her," Bucky realized.

"…Yeah, I guess I did," Ilya muttered. "In fact, I did find her…She's in a Polish ghetto not far from Warsaw…I took ten days leave to go get her, and brought enough money to bribe anybody need be…And some shit who had too much to drink jostled me off a truck and got my leg ran over."

"Jeez…I'm sorry, pal," Bucky whispered honestly. "Have you written her?"

"Lots…Never get anything back, though…She probably didn't get any of my letters," Krupin said, closing his red book and shoving it under his pillow. "I'm tired, so I'm going to sleep now," he added quickly, shutting the lighter and darkening the room.

"G'night, Ilya," Bucky yawned. "Hey, I'll see what I can do 'bout your girl, I got a _little_ pull, you know?"

"…Good night, Sargent Barnes," Krupin responded quietly.

* * *

When Anna came into the hospital dorm the next day, she sighed as she took in her surroundings. Wilson was getting his chest x-rayed (she ran into him on her way down), the young Eastern European man was sleeping heavily in his cot, and Rhodey was writing letters and had an unread newspaper at the foot of his cot. Bucky's cot, on the other hand, was empty; the IV was still hanging by his bed.

Her eyes went to the bathroom, where Bucky was, then she proceeded to sit on his bed. She kicked her feet up, opened up the book she brought her and began to read.

"Hey darlin'," Bucky said from the bathroom door, grinning when he saw the petite blonde in his cot. She looked up at him with the beginnings of a bright smile, and it quickly morphed into a shocked, stupefied expression. It stayed there while Bucky walked to his cot, sat down, and laughed once. "See that ghost again?"

Anna laughed once, and a small smile managed to make its way onto her face. "Yeah…I-I guess you could say that."

She couldn't help herself as she reached forward and put a hand on Bucky's cheek. His smooth, cleanly shaven cheek. Her smile widened a little, and tears seemed to form in her eyes as she just looked at his face.

After two or three minutes of the pair just looking intently and lovingly at each other, Bucky finally spoke up. With his brows pulled together and up in the middle (clearly in worry), he asked; "You ok, Glow?"

Anna nodded quickly, making her curls bounce around.

"Really? 'Cause you don't _seem_ ok."

"I'm alright, Bucky," Anna said in a near whisper.

"Now, why don't I believe you?" Bucky asked with a soft, worried smile in his voice. His right hand was brushing Anna's hair away from her face, then stayed against her jaw and stroked her cheekbone with his thumb.

It took a second for Anna to answer. "Bucky I thought you were _dead_ ," she finally said; there was an expression on her face that Bucky had never seen before. "I-I thought you were _gone_ …" She returned her hand to his face.

He laughed once, and grinned a little. "Darlin,' you and I both know that I'm a fighter," he told her, a touch of smugness in his voice. "This situation's no different than the other ones where I've come home lookin' like crap."

"Yes it is," Anna said back. She seemed distracted by his face; her thumb was brushing circles on his smooth cheek. "Yes, it is very _very_ different."

" _Why?_ " Bucky asked, clearly confused.

"Because it is, ok! It's different!" Anna said in a louder, more stern voice.

Bucky's eyes narrowed slightly in a half-playful way. "Alright then…" He said, leaning back against the pillows on his cot. "When you decide to tell me what's botherin' you, you know where I'll be."

Anna scowled just a little bit, and looked down at the poetry book in her lap.

"Hey Anna," Bucky said, a certain mischief in his voice.

Anna looked up, intending to say something snappy, and was caught off guard by Bucky's right hand pressing between her shoulder blades, hauling her towards him until his lips hit hers.

When he'd first touched her, Anna's hands went up towards Bucky to try and put a little distance between them, not that it really worked. One thing Anna knew; if Bucky wanted her close, nothing less than a hard slap to his face or a firm 'no' would stop him. She had countless memories of him loitering in her lab, and grabbing her from behind in a tight hug and not letting go until she agreed to a lunch break or to give him a kiss. The way Bucky's lips moved against hers shocked Anna into a still lull. She was like a limp ragdoll against Bucky; his hand on her upper back was all that was keeping her from sliding right off the cot.

Bucky was bombarded with memories of the first kiss Anna and him shared. He thought it was odd for a second, but brushed it off quickly. He _did_ surprise her, _and_ she seemed to be in a really odd, unhappy mood. When Bucky kissed Anna, he never really _wanted_ to stop, but he knew he had to when an uncomfortable feeling tickled his lungs. As he pulled back, hardly an inch, Anna suddenly seized his head with both hands and kept his head exactly where it was. Bucky opened his eyes, and looked at Anna, who still had her's shut. She looked like she was about to cry, her bottom lip was trembling and everything.

"Anna, please, tell me what's gotten into you?" Bucky said quietly. He was practically _begging_ her to tell him what was wrong. "If you don't tell me what's wrong, I can't fix it."

"I thought you were _dead_ ," Anna choked out quietly, not opening her eyes.

"You keep sayin' that," Bucky sighed, leaning back on his pillow. He brought Anna with him, holding her snuggly to his side. He'd've rather had her on his left side, so her head could rest on his heart, but his busted arm wouldn't let that happen. So, he maneuvered her close, and put her right hand over his heart.

"I-I thought-"

"Shh, Anna," Bucky said rubbing his thumb soothingly over her shoulder. "I know what'cha thought, but you gotta acknowledge what's right in front of you."

Anna sniffled.

"You know what's right in front of you?"

Anna nodded quickly, her cheek pressed to the right side of Bucky's chest and her hair falling out of the swept-up bun it had been shoved in, hiding her face from him.

"And it wouldn't be very scientific of you if you didn't acknowledge your living, breathing, cuddling, handsome, strong, soldier-like sweetheart right next to you, would it?"

Anna shook her head 'no' but didn't lift her head.

"And knowin' that the guy who thinks you're the thing that makes the moon and sun rise and set makes you feel better, doesn't it?"

Anna didn't respond.

"That's gotta make you feel better, right?"

There was a heavy beat of silence.

"You're not better, are you, Glow?" Bucky whispered into her cork-screw curls.

Anna whispered into his chest, covered by a spattering of gauze that wrapped around his torso "I thought you were _dead_ _and_ _gone_ , Bucky."

"What can I do to help you feel better?" Bucky asked in a whisper hardly louder than a breath.

"Just…Just hold me, ok?" Anna answered in a small voice.

"No problem, Glow," Bucky sighed, a smile clear in his voice. "Can't think of a better way to spend my time."

* * *

Anna POV

When Bucky was asleep, I pressed a kiss to his forehead and carefully slipped out of his cot.

Pietro, Sam and Rhodey didn't have to sleep in the lumpy, uncomfortable cots, but more often than not, they just fell asleep there and didn't like it when Helen, Clint or I woke them up to leave. Either they were really into the parts they were playing, or they were being a little nostalgic and remembering their days of service. Pietro, on the other hand, I think he could sleep just about anywhere.

I slipped out of the door, shut it behind me and fell against it, bringing my hands up to cover my nose and mouth. " _Oh my God_ ," I breathed out, pinching my eyes shut as I let myself slide to the floor.

When I kissed James, I was hit with such a powerful feeling; I was kissing _Bucky_ again, at least it felt like I was. All the emotions that I'd forced to the back of my mind because of how painful they were came flooding back like a monsoon in the Austrian ski lodge. James and Bucky were two distinguished people in my mind, but James just kissed so much like Bucky.

I thought he did anyway. It'd been almost seventy-five years since I'd actually had a kiss from Bucky, and the memory had faded some. Him planting one on me, catching me by surprise, shocked me to the point of fear. I was afraid to do something that would ruin the carefully crafted bubble that had been created around him, afraid of the intense feelings I hadn't had since the last time we kissed, afraid that I was going to start crying—just _afraid_.

"So Helen's been looking over the scans of Bucky's arm, and she said that—Anna?"

Inhaling sharply, I looked up quickly and met eyes with Kára, who was standing not too far from me.

"You ok there, Annie?" She asked with a cautious smile.

I nodded, and wallowed before speaking. "Yeah…Yeah, just…" I trailed off, shook my head and smiled a little. "Doesn't matter how much we prepare, set up scenarios, make up backgrounds or how many memories I have Wanda dig up…He _still_ managed to surprise me."

Kára snorted and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well, what you call surprise, I call massive head trauma and decreased reasoning skills."

"Whatever it is, it somehow _still_ makes me blush," I laughed, resting my head against the door.

"So, do you need a minute, or…?" Kára trailed off, playing with the tablet in her hands.

"No. No, I'm good," I said, scrubbing a hand down my face. I took Kára's outstretched hand and she pulled me to my feet. "Is he any closer?"

While it was 1946 in the basement of an Allies Army hospital behind the door I was leaning on, it was twenty-first century Spain out in the real world. Everybody involved was always doing one on four things; playing their part in Bucky's bubble, eating, sleeping, or working on locating Slavic.

While James and I were holed up in the Austrian resort, Enrico Slavic was a busy little bee. He went through informants like a person with the flu goes through Kleenex, looking all over the world for James Buchanan Barnes, and by extension, the Winter Soldier. Natasha was currently in Shanghai spreading false leads. Once Bucky was mentally stable enough to answer some more questions and possibly understand what had happened to him, then Slavic would become my main priority. Until then, we were just holding him off. Sending him to the other side of the world seemed like a good way to keep him busy for a while.

"He got to one of Winter's old handlers," Kára explained, showing me her tablet. I wrinkled my nose at the image of the guy tied up, hanging upside down in a basement with his head in an over flowing sink. "Steve checked it out, and we think that he was looking for the journal our soggy HYDRA friend kept on Jimmy."

"He didn't get it, did he?" I asked, my brows raising. I'd been keeping my eyes open for a less than official documentation on Bucky's assassin alter ego since I met him. No telling what was in it, but I knew I didn't want Enrico to have it.

"Vasily Karpov was _old school_ ," Kára chuckled. "He kept a stash of HYDRA stuff in his _chimney_. Steve only noticed it when there was a burn barrel in the middle of the living room, in front of a perfectly good fireplace."

"Karpov bricked up his whole chimney, making the fireplace useless," I nodded in appreciation. "Chimneys are always a good place to hide stuff, but when it comes to burning things in the same room, they're pretty obvious." Kára made an 'Mm-Hm,' sound in agreement. "Can I see what he found?"

"Go ahead," the Valkyrie sighed. "TJ and Helen took a look, but couldn't make it through too much."

"Why not?" I asked, yanking hairpins out of my hair before scooping it all back in a ponytail as we walked towards a section on the villa basement sectioned off for changing.

Kára opened her mouth to say something, but closed it after a second. She looked down at the tablet, sighed then looked back at me. "God, Anna…He was _abused_."

I had to stop for a second before shoving my skirt and stockings off. "Yeah…" I said quietly.

"I-I guess I thought there'd be a certain level of gore, with it being HYDRA and all," Kára continued. "But— _damnit_ , like, _90%_ of what they put him through was totally not needed!"

"I know," I responded softly, ditching my blouse and the rest of my garb for sweat pants and a tanktop.

"I overheard TJ and Helen talking about this one part—Did you know they used him as a living punching bag that bled and punched back for HYDRA agents? And-And they'd basically _starve_ him for a few days so he was weak and dehydrated for it?"

"Yeah, Kára, I know," I said stoically, walking past her to where the journal most likely was. "Imagine hearing it from him at four in the morning while he cried, held his head in pain and only spoke in slurred Russian."

I didn't hear her respond, so I just kept walking.

I found the journal easily, got a massive cup of coffee, and plunked myself into a plush Spanish sofa under a window. The journal was a dusty, old red-covered thing with a black star pressed into it.

I took a drink, braced myself, and opened it up.


	45. Chapter 45: The Escape

**Sorry for the wait my cupcakes!**

 **I'm already half done with the next chapter, but some reviews might speed up my typing skills. ;)**

 **Love you to crumbs, cupcakes!**

 **~Christianne**

* * *

 ***UNEDITED***

* * *

Anna POV

I was roughly shaken awake, and the well instilled reaction of grabbing the loaded gun at my side jolted awake as well.

"Whoa!" TJ yelped quickly, throwing his hands forward, putting some distance between his torso and my gun. "Hey! Anna! It-It's just me!"

"Sorry," I sighed tiredly, putting the gun down. "It's a reflex. Why'd you wake me up?"

"He-He knows we're in Spain," TJ said, swallowing thickly.

My heart dropped to my stomach. " _What?_ "

"Slavic—He knows we're in Spain," TJ clarified, even though I knew damn well what he was saying. "Natasha called from Sydney. She found a few bodies that Slavic put bullets in, and some knew we got a villa in Spain."

"Did any of them know the exact location of this place?" I asked, getting up from the plush couch I'd claimed as my bed for the night. It'd been more than a week since Bucky woke up in the basement artfully decorated like an army hospital. I knew that we were pushing it; letting him believe that he was, well, _home_ , would only cause more damage when he found out where he really was. But part of me just couldn't break it to him; Bucky was _happy_ in his bubble created just for him.

"No, no the only person outside the team that knows we're here is Pablo, the caretaker," TJ explained quickly. "The-They guy's loyal, Anna, he's not tellin' a soul we're here. His-His family fled the Nazi's from Czecholsolvakia."

I nodded, and waved a dismissive hand at him. "Ok...Start packin' up. We're leaving. How long do you need?"

"An hour to get out, longer if you want me to clean the place so we were never here," the tech rattled off diligently.

"I want us to be ghosts in forty-five minutes or less," I told him in the same tone I used when giving orders to soldiers.

" _Impossible_ ," TJ scoffed. I simply raised an eyebrow. He gave a defeated sigh, and put on a dutiful smile. "Aye aye, Anna," he said with a wry smile, before turning on a heel to begin the 'impossible' task.

Once TJ was gone, I also spun on my heel and marched towards Bucky's bubble. It was like I had tunnel vision; I could see everyone around me, but it didn't seem to register. All I could see was the door that led to my soldier.

I threw the door open and didn't plan on stopping until I was next to Bucky.

"Hey darlin'— _Jesus in Heaven!_ What are you wearing?"

In my rush, I didn't acknowledge my chosen sleeping attire; a pair of black spandex shorts that were practically skin tight and hardly reached the middle of my thighs, a baggy, long sleeved forest green knit shirt originally bought for James, and not another Goddamned thing. Hence, why Bucky let the newspaper he was reading fall into his lap in shock, his eyes were bugging out of his head, and his mouth was gaping. The last time I saw him in such a state was when I emerged from the bathroom in our London apartment in a lacy, silk nightie that was much racier than anything I've ever bought. I played with the tie that held the skimpy robe around my waist, and shyly looked up at him through my disheveled curls. He had almost the exact same expression when he saw me then as he did now, only more confused.

"You-You should cover up a little, Glow," Bucky began gabbling, after swallowing thickly, his eyes not leaving my exposed legs. "I-I mean I don't mind at all. Hell, you're the best thing I've seen in weeks. But I know how soldiers can be and not all of them are as charming as I am and even though I know damn well you can handle yourself I don't wanna hear about some guy grabbin' your-"

"Bucky, stop talking," I said sternly, ripping a poster off the brick wall. I grabbed the two syringes taped to the back. I tucked one into the strap of my bra, and kept the other in my fist. "What I'm wearing doesn't matter. I'm going to tell you a lot of information very fast, so you're gonna have to listen to me very well, alright?"

Bucky looked up at me from the cot with confused, wide eyes. There was still a light flush on his cheeks and neck from seeing me march in, but it was quickly fading. "Al-Alright, Anna," he said eventually. He watched, confused, as I took his right arm and ripped the IV out, making him wince slightly, then began looking for a vein.

"Hey, what's in— _Ow!_ " Bucky yelped when I stuck his arm. He blinked a few times, and let out a deep breath I doubt he knew he was holding. "Oh _wow_ , what's _in_ that? I-I feel a- _a lot_ better!"

The syringe contained a mix of drugs that counter acted the ones in the drip he'd been hooked up to. There was a bit of adrenaline in there too, just in case. But instead of telling him that, I said "Just a little something to help you listen to me better."

I leaned over him on the cot, and even went as far as to put a hand on his cheek, forcing him to hold eye contact with me and preventing him from leaning back. "Somebody bad is coming here, Bucky, and they're looking for you. I can tell you all about it later, answer all your questions, but right now you just need to trust me. You're in danger, and you need to trust me, understand?"

The intensity that I spoke with clearly unnerved Bucky, but he nodded anyway.

"We need to get outta here, and when we walk out that door, you're going to see a lot of things you don't understand. Hell, you'll hardly see _anything_ familiar. It'll probably freak you out a little, but you gotta hold it together and hold it in 'till I get you safe, ok?"

My commanding, borderline ordering tone threw Bucky into a stupefied, stunned daze. "Ok."

I put my other hand on his face, and my tone softened, in fact, it softened more than I would've liked. "Bucky…Sweetheart, you've done _so_ _much_ for me…Let me do this for you—Let me protect you for a change, ok? Just-Just let me _protect you_."

"Darlin'—You-You're startin' to scare me a little, Anna," he said with a nervous chuckle.

"Please, Bucky," I begged him. " _Please let me protect you._ "

"I'm a _grown man_ , Anna—I-I'm a _soldier_ in the _United States Army_. I don't need to be protected-"

" _Bucky!_ " I cut him off with a yelp, knowing we needed to move. TJ had forty-five minutes, and at least ten had passed already. " _Please!_ " I begged once more.

Finally, Bucky nodded slowly.

I grabbed his right hand, pulled him up, and began towing him to the door. Acting on impulse, I stopped quickly and grabbed him in a tight hug, closing my eyes tightly as I breathed him in for what felt like the last time. " _Please don't go_ ," I breathed into the gauze that covered his chest, far too quiet for even _his_ keen ears to hear.

What I was about to do was potentially very damaging to his fragile mental state. I couldn't lose Bucky, not when I just got him back. I just…couldn't. Losing Bucky twice would break me in a way that I wouldn't be able to come back from.

"Anna…Anna, darlin' this is really startin' to scare me," Bucky said quietly as he hugged me back with his right hand.

"I know," I said softly, leaning back. "I know, and it's ok. It'll all be just fine…Just remember me, ok? Remember that I love you."

I gave Bucky a final nod before pulling away from my very confused soldier. Taking his hand tightly, I opened the door and led him through. The shocked inhale that came from behind me was audible even over the din of activity. I squeezed his hand and began pulling him along.

Rhodey, Sam, Tony, Steve and Kára were shoving items into heavy plastic crates, disassembling mobile tech units and throwing documents either into lock boxes or the furnace. TJ and Ellie were taking the more sensitive equipment and documents, running them directly to the jet Clint was prepping. Helen was in the villa above us, paying the caretaker, and making sure nobody left their crap up there.

"W-What in the world…?" Bucky breathed out. I snuck a glance over my shoulder, and I could feel the beginnings of a smile creep up over my face. The look of confusion, surprise, wonder, curiosity and intrigue that crossed his face was everything I hoped it would be when imagining how I would show Bucky the modern world; he wasn't out rightly afraid of the future, he was _curious_.

"Annie!" Steve called out, hefting one of the large crates (that easily weighed 400 pounds) onto a stack of others on a pallet. "Barton's in the jet, but it'll still be a few minutes before he can leave."

"He needs to be wheels up in," I paused and looked at the clock on the wall. "Twenty minutes. Other than that, I don't care."

"Aye aye Anna," Steve said with dry houmor; he must've heard TJ earlier. I really hoped it wasn't going to stick.

I raised a few fingers to my brow in a lazy salute, and threw him my middle finger as I dropped my hand and walked in the other direction. My pace never faltered with my conversation with Steve, and Bucky was stumbling after me, trying to see everything.

"H-Hey Steve," I heard Bucky call out to his friend as I pulled him along.

Steve stopped dead in his track, dropped the plastic crate he'd been carrying and approached his friend carefully. "Hey pal…How 'ya feelin'?"

I'd been pulling Bucky to the curtained off part of the basement. I let go of his hand and started sifting through the clothes.

"Uh…" Bucky stammered, looking around with wide eyes. He swallowed. "I'm pretty damn confused, Steve. Pretty damn confused."

After pulling on a pair of cargo pants I found on the floor, I leaned on the table to lace up some boots over my bare feet. I smiled, "Just focus on me, Bucky."

When my boots were good and tight, I went back to him and put my hand on his cheek. "Keep your eyes on me, sweetheart."

Bucky listened to me, and let his stormy baby-blues bore into my face. My eyes flitted to Steve, who nodded before leaving us. With my brown eyes on his cleanly shaven, trusting face, I began to undo the outer parts of the white mass over his left arm.

There was a tight sleeve over the metal under the gauze, muffling any metallic sounds and adding some padding against the vibration. With a pocket knife I found nearby, I began to carefully hack away at the outer gauze. I did keep his arm fully wrapped in gauze, but removed the wooden rods that acted like a splint, and the gauze that kept his arm bent at the elbow and against his side. I left the gauze around his head; it was the only thing keeping his long, shaggy hair back.

"My-My arm doesn't hurt anymore," Bucky realized as I brushed gauze strands off his arm.

"I know," I said simply. "I'll explain everything later, remember?" He nodded numbly, still gazing at me as I pulled out a simple white t-shirt and handed it to him. Once it was over his head, the ground shook, following a massive blast.

I don't know who's instincts kicked in, but I had two strong arms around me within a second, pulling me to his strong chest ad backing me up to the stone wall. Bucky and I lived through air raids and bombings, so we ended up in situations like this more than a few times in the bunker. James, on the other hand, would trap me between a wall and his chest every time a blast like that shook whatever HYDRA compound we were taking down. I quickly tabled the instincts debate when my dormant earpiece crackled to life.

" _Slavic's men just blew the villa's gate!_ " TJ yelled through coms.

I put a hand on Bucky's cheek, met his eyes, and nodded once. Bucky's arms stayed around me for a minute more as his wide, confused eyes searched mine. Finally, he returned my nod hesitantly.

"Don't leave my side, and don't do anything stupid," I whispered to him, before leaning up to brush my lips to his gently. As I pulled back, I grabbed his exposed, flesh hand and got up from against the wall.

"TJ, I need you, Ellie, the twins, Emilia and Helen on the jet," I ordered, glancing at my watch. "Take as much sensitive cargo as you can jam into the jet and tell Clint that if he doesn't take off in seven minutes, I'll kick his ass _so hard-_ "

" _I'm right here, Anna,_ " the archer cut me off in an exasperated voice.

"Well then my threat can got to you directly," I said cheerfully.

"Who-Who are you talkin' to?" Bucky asked.

"My team," I answered dismissively.

" _Anna, the—Uh, the_ _ **bad**_ _ **guys**_ _are inside the villa now,_ " the accented voice of Pietro Maximoff informed me through a series of frustrated grunts. There wasn't enough time to remove the plaster cast, so Wanda and Emilia were acting as his human crutches to get Pietro to the jet.

"Did you not hear me when I was yelling at TJ?" I scolded him. "Get your speedy little butt on the jet with all the sensitive cargo you can get!"

" _I heard you! Gah—Emilia never told me you were so bossy!_ "

I sighed, and came to a stop at a large table, neatly covered in weapons. "Sorry Maximoff," I sighed throwing my hair up in a ponytail. "This is just how I am in the field. Emilia can vouch for me that I'm typically pretty nice."

" _She is_ ," the gypsy chimed in.

Bucky was looking around, but standing behind me obidently as I prepped my pistol, then began to fill extra clips with bullets.

" _No! Steve—I can help!_ " I heard Ellie's voice both in my ear piece and in the room around me.

I glanced to my left, and saw the petite brunette and muscled blond standing pretty close to one another by a stack of crates. Steve glanced around, then touched a finger to his earpiece, silencing it; not that it did anything to impede my ability to eavesdrop.

"Ellie, _listen to me_ and _get on the jet_ ," Steve said, his voice clearly laced with worry.

"No!" Ellie resisted stubbornly, her hands forming fists by her side. "I-I am a capable mutant, Steve! I fought alongside you against Ultron!"

"We had no options then, Ells!" Steve shot back with the same level of stubbornness. "We have options now, and the only one I like has you on the jet, and far away from here!"

"The only option I like has me right next to you!" Ellie said back, flexing her fingers. "I may bot be able to life hundreds of pounds like you, but I can watch your back! What of the people with guns come in here, and you have you hands full with a crate? Huh? I could-I could create a shield around you—and Tony and Rhodey and Sam—and _protect_ you!"

"I won't be able to do anything knowing that you're not safe!"

"You were able to do a lot of things when we were fighting Ultron!"

"You can't keep bringing up Ultron, alright Ellie? We had _no options_ -"

"Steven Grant Rodgers would you just listen to me-!"

"Ellenore Maple I won't let you stay here-!"

The two were half-yelling at one another, not able to hear what the other was saying. A third blast shook the ground, causing items to move and dust to fall from the ceiling. I put a and on Bucky's shoulder to steady myself, as he did same on the wall. My brows raised, though, when I saw Ellie and Steve.

The captain had seized Ellie by her slim shoulders, pulled her to his chest and spinning around, pressing her back to the wall his back had previously been facing. The pose was similar to the one Bucky and I ended up in earlier, only it made me raise my brow slightly. Steve's large torso was curled in, surrounding Ellie, and one of his arms was braced on the wall. The other was clutching Ellie to his chest, his hand cradling her head as he rested against his neck and shoulder. Ellie's hands gripped tightly to the material of his shirt, and even from yards away, I could tell they were shaking. I saw Steve's lips moving, but I couldn't tell what he was saying. Whatever it was, it seemed to calm both of them down.

I checked the clock, and put a finger to my ear piece. "The jet'll be gone in three minutes," I said, and watched as Steve's eyes opened and he looked down at the woman in his arms.

Steve let Ellie go, only to grasp her face in both of his hands, making her look up at him with wide, innocent eyes and a slack mouth, leaving her lips slightly parted.

"Ells, _please_ ," Steve said in a way that, if I didn't know any better, I'd say sounded like _begging_. "Get on the jet."

Ellie blinked up at Steve and swallowed once as she began nodding her head quickly, with jerky motions that clearly conveyed how fast she wanted to convey her agreement. "I-I'll get on the jet…You-You don't need to escort me, though…I'm a-I'm a capable mutant."

Steve cracked a smile, and nodded as well. "I know you're a capable mutant, Ells," he sighed, then did something surprising; he pressed his lips to Ellie's forehead in a firm kiss that was much too long to be a peck. "Now, get going," he said once he'd removed his lips from Ellie's hairline. When she stood still in shock, Steve steered her towards the staircase that emptied out closest to the jet. Ellie glanced back at Steve once, then scampered up the steps.

I shook my head, and put the four full clips in the pockets of my cargo pants. Taking Bucky's hand, I led him to the staircase we would be taking to the first floor.

" _We're ready to take off, Brightman,_ " Clint informed me. " _Last chance for you're and your boyfriend to hitch a ride._ "

"The forty-five minutes are almost up," I answered. "It'd take us too long to get there safely."

"Glow—Where 're we going?" Bucky asked, his voice raised slightly over the turmoil going on above us.

I answered Bucky and spoke to the others at the same time. "We're headed to the front garage for an SUV."

" _Got it, Brightman,_ " Rhodey answered diligently.

" _It's a real waste, you know,_ " Tony piped up, sounding quite irritated. " _Milti-million dollar suits being used to_ _ **lift heavy things**_ _._ "

I groaned. "Sam?" I asked for clarification.

" _Rhodes and Stark are flying up and down the busted freight elevator. I'm finishin' packin' up the crates, Steve tosses 'em up, and TJ's doin' his thing in every spot we clean out,_ " Sam explained concisely.

"What?" I exclaimed, pulling Bucky to a stop on the stone steps. "TJ, why the hell aren't you in the jet?"

" _The caretaker got shot so I gave him my seat so Helen could give him medical attention_ ," TJ defended himself. " _I-I'm more useful here anyway!_ "

I groaned. "Fine, but I'm tellin' your mother you disobeyed a direct order given by me!"

" _We'll be leaving in the trucks in five minutes, Anna_ ," Steve announced. " _Need any backup?_ "

"The day I need backup against Slavic's punk-ass army is the day I retire," I snapped under my breath. I took Bucky's hand firmly, and once again began ascending the stairs. My one hand held Bucky's and kept him behind me, while the other held my pistol.

"Wait," I said quietly, stopping on the steps again.

"What? What's wrong Anna? How can I help?" Bucky babbled quickly. He had to look up at me, since I was two steps above him.

I smiled slightly and rolled my eyes. "Relax, Buck," I chuckled softly. "The clips are too heavy and are pulling my pants down. Be a lamb and take 'em off my hands?"

Bucky seemed to be shocked stupid, so he only held his hand out and put the four clips in the pocket of his brownish pants. Once they were safely tucked away, I grabbed the hair at the top of his head and pulled him closer to me so I could plant a form kiss on his lips. It only lasted a second, but it was enough to snap Bucky out of his stupor. I let his hair go, took his hand and again began to go up the steps.

The feeling of Bucky's questioning, confused, worried stare on the back of my head never wavered as I cleared the hallway the stairs spat us out in. It stayed there as I led us to the front door, walked over some broken glass and passed kicked in doors. When a bend in the hall came, I pulled Bucky to the wall. One peak around the corner made me curse under my breath.

"Eight armed guys?" I scoffed under my breath. "That's all 'ya sent, Enrico?"

"Anna, give me the gun," Bucky whispered in my ear. "I'll cover you, you run to the door."

"What?" I responded in a whispered yell. "You have massive head trauma that has no doubt impaired your judgment. No way in hell am I giving you a gun!"

"You have eight targets and only ten bullets in that clip!"

"Hey, I'm a crack shot! _You_ taught me how to shoot, remember? And you only have one hand free—Think you can hit eight targets without your left hand to steady on the recoil?"

"Eight moving targets with ten bullets is something even _I_ would have a hard time doin' even in the best state of mind! I love you, but darlin', you're outta your depth!"

My eyes narrowed slightly as feelings bubbled up in my stomach. Maybe it was all the 1940s play-acting, seeing _Bucky's_ face again, or Bucky's old fashioned wording, but something about being told I couldn't do something lit a fire under my butt that had only been embers since the late 1970s.

"Stay here, baby," I sighed simply. With that, I stepped out from the safety of the corner and fired nine shots in quick succession.

My first shot hits a leg, and is quickly followed by a shot to the head of the guy. The other seven assailants get single shots to the upper chest, neck or head. They were armatures; their instinct was to go to their fallen comrades rather than get their own guns and fire back.

"Coast is clear," I said casually, approaching the bodies. One was still twitching, desperately trying to get to his discarded gun, even after being shot through the neck. I stood over him and saw how much blood he was losing through the two holes in his neck (as well as through his nose and mouth); he'd be dead in a few minutes, but I was feeling merciful. I put my last bullet in his forehead, ending his suffering. I felt a warm spray of bloody mist spatter over me, but ignored it.

Bucky stepped out from behind the corner and stumbled to my side. His mouth opened and closed over and over like a fish as he tried to speak.

Quick footsteps caught my attention.

"Think you can reload this with only one-and-a-half-hands?" I asked Bucky, holding my gun out to him. He nodded, his chin moving up and down with fast jerking motions, as he took the gun from my hand.

I silently lept over one of the bodies, and stood behind an open door than led to another hallway with a staircase to the upper levels. By my ears, two more men were coming right at us.

Ten men. Hm. I guess Slavic _did_ have some faith in my skills.

Just as the first man was about to step through the open door, I put both hands on the painted wood and _pushed_. The door slammed into the first man, causing a string of Spanish curse words to fly from him mouth. I spun around the door before the swearing Spaniard could really react, and grabbed the large gun in his hands with both of mine. After slamming it up into his face, I yanked it from his grip and threw the butt of it into his gut. I kneed his groin and slammed the gun into the back of his neck, sending him to the floor. I gave his temple a sharp kick, rendering him unconscious.

When I looked up, I hardly had time to react to the last armed assailant, holding his gun at the ready, before a single shot him dead between the eyes.

I turned and saw Bucky behind me; his uninjured arm was up ad his gaze was steady as steel while he looked down the sight of the pistol. I felt the urge to smile, but then I saw the slight shakiness in his hand and breathing.

"A-Anna," Bucky stammered. "What-What the hell is going on?"

I approached him slowly, not unlike when he was James and I treated him like a baby deer caught in the headlights of a car. I took the gun from his hands, and looked up at him, waiting for him to speak first.

Bucky's shaking right hand reached up towards my face. He rubbed his fingers over my face and neck, trying to wipe the blood off my skin. Half of it was half-dried from when I did the shooting, but there was fresh stuff from when Bucky hit the last guy in the face. All he was doing was smearing the blood around, and that seemed to make Bucky shake more and breath faster.

"Hey," I said softly, grasping his flesh hand and pulling it away from my face. "It'll come off with just a little water…I'm ok, you know that, don't you?"

His cerulean blues were confused as he looked down at me, and nodded slowly.

"Good…Then let's get the hell outta here," I said, grumbling the last part as I intertwined our fingers and began to drag him towards the garage.

" _We're headin' out, Annie_ ," Steve told me through coms.

"Well it's about time," I sighed playfully.

"G-Glow, dar-darlin'—I-I'm scared," Bucky said in a wavering tone. "Not-Not gettin' scared, not a little scared, not kinda worried—Full-Full on _scared_."

I swallowed thickly, forcing down and words that might've bubbled up over my lips. We were close to the garage, so I choked it down until we got there.

Once in the cool garage, I opened the back door of the maroon SUV, and gestured for Bucky to get in. He did, and I quickly followed. I put a hand on his shoulder, leaning him closer to me. He latched onto me like a lifeline with both arms around my torso, pressing his face to my neck.

"What-What's happening, Anna?" He murmured shakily. I heard him swallow loudly, and he began repeating the question over and over into my skin. Bucky was close to tears, going by his voice, and I closed my eyes as I began drawing circles on his flesh shoulder.

"Who am I?" I asked him calmly, bringing my hand to his hair to card my fingers through his sweaty locks in a soothing manner.

"Wh-What?" Bucky choked out.

"Just answer the question, baby…Who am I?" I asked, keeping the calm tone and soothing motions of my hand in his hair. My arm around his shoulders moved so it wrapped around his neck, allowing me to take the syringe from my bra strap.

There was a heavy pause, where Bucky took several deep breaths to speak clearer. "Anna…Anna Brightman."

"Yeah…Now, who are you?" I prompted gently.

"Bucky Barnes."

I brought my other hand around his shoulders and pressed my palm between his shoulder blades. "What was the first thing I said when I got back from the Netherlands?"

"You told me you loved me…For-For the first time," Bucky mumbled.

"And what did you tell me under the mistletoe at the SSR's first Christmas party?"

"I…I told you that I loved you."

"You did, yeah, for the first time," I recalled wistfully. "Remember all that, ok? Just think about that…Can you do that for me?"

A soft, hesitant, shaky laugh left Bucky's lips before he spoke again. "Your name, my name and the fact that we're damn deep and love?…How-How could I forget any a that?"

I smiled, and pressed a kiss to the side of his head. "Good."

Then, I slid the needle of the syringe into the back of Bucky's neck, and pushed the plunger down. Bucky tensed and flinched at first, but as the heavy sedatives took effect, he slumped forward before he got a word out.

I hugged him tightly, then slid out of the seat, laying him down gently on the buttery letter seats. I leaned down and kissed his cheek; my mouth just grazing the corner of his lips.

After closing the back door, I got in the driver's seat, turned the key and floored the SUV out of the garage.


	46. Chapter 46: Tell Me a Story

**Ugh, I know, I've been a little slack in updating. Sorry cupcakes. In my defense, I'm starting college on Aug. 22, and I'm freaking out about it a little. All my mental energy has been going into my college stuff, leaving me with a serious case of writers block.**

 **This chapter is a little odd a maybe fillerish, but its better than nothing, right? Well, doesn't really matter, 'cause this is what you guys are getting. :)**

 **I wanted to quickly address some things about the last chapter. I think I said this before, but I'm not going to be following the Civil War story line in this story; there will be Civil War elements (like the red journal) but I'm not going to follow everything in a straight up cannon fashion. I know that Bucky is much more, well, 'accepting' I guess (I can't think of another word) of what he did for HYDRA in Civil War, and he's not in this story. *shrug* Its really just how I chose to portray him in here. *another nervous shrug***

 **And, a few nice reviews wouldn't hurt my motivation. ;)**

 **Enjoy the chapter my cupcakes!**

 **~Christianne**

 **Sidenote: I started watching _Teen Wolf_ and am now mildly obsessed with it. *excited squeal***

* * *

Omniscient POV

Bucky woke up slowly, and rolled over before opening his eyes. His brows furrowed; he'd expected to be half-off his hospital cot with the movement. Instead, Bucky's cheeks were rubbing against smooth, cool, soft linens that smelled better than _anything_ that would be in an Army hospital. The light stubble over his jaw provided the only resistance against Bucky rubbing his face against the pillow case.

Groggily, the dark haired soldier opened his eyes. Bucky scrubbed a hand over his face as he sat up. As he took in his surroundings, he became very confused very quickly.

He was in a bedroom that was pretty feminine, at least in Bucky's eye. He was sprawled out in a large plush bed that felt _expensive_ with a brassy-gold bed frame. The walls were papered with a floral pattern in shades of yellow and gold, and small blue petals created artful little flowers. Large windows let in clear, fresh morning light; the sheer curtains fluttered and floated through the air softly, as the open panes let in the breeze.

After the bedsheets and the femininity of the room were clear noticed, Bucky took in just how _big_ the bedroom was. The apartment he shared with Anna in London could fit inside the room he saw around him! If the room itself wasn't big enough, of the three dark, heavy wooden doors, one was open to a bathroom that looked massive, the second was partially closed, but Bucky could tell it was a sizable closet, and the third, which he could only assume went to the hallway, was shut tight. On top of that, the wall of windows also held a pair of double-doors that were open to a large, very European looking terrace.

"Jesus Christ…" Bucky murmured as he looked around, wide eyed, at the bedroom. He was chuckling softly to himself, confused beyond belief, but oddly calm, and even a little happy. Bucky idly reached up and scratched his left bicep through the long-sleeved shirt somebody pulled over his torso.

Keeping his gaze in the open windows, Bucky furrowed his brow as his nails scraped over his bicep. The pads of his fingers brushed over the woven cotton of his shirt, but it didn't feel like the pliable flesh he'd expect to feel under his shirt. Bucky had been leaning back on his left arm, his palm flat against the mattress to prop himself up. So, he brought his hand around to take a look at it.

He laughed once at what he saw, and rubbed his right hand over his left. When nothing changed, Bucky blinked a few times, expecting the hallucination to clear up. It didn't.

Slowly, Bucky felt his heart begin to pound hard in his chest, and his breathing sped up. He grabbed the cuff on the left side of his shirt and yanked it up to his mid-forearm. Bucky thought that his heart was going to pound right out of his chest; he even thought he heard his ribcage rattle. His right hand began grabbing up and down his left arm as his legs kicked spastically to get out from under the blankets.

The cool, smooth, dark wood floors met Bucky's bare feet as he scrambled to the wardrobe. He flung the door open and looked in the mirror inside the carved door.

With a flesh hand, and a silver hand, Bucky grabbed the collar of his shirt and yanked it sharply to the left, ripping it in more than a few places.

When the smooth metal plate that curved over his shoulder, outlined with a thick scar, became visible, Bucky let out a strangled, choked sound. He clawed his nails over the seam of flesh and metal. The sensitive, raised skin buzzed and stung as his nails dragged over it, and the nails over the metal felt no sensation at all.

Bucky was close to hyperventilating as one could be without _actually_ hyperventilating. He grabbed at his hair, and was shocked to find that 1) there was no cut stitched up on the side of his head, and 2) his hair was _long_. It almost brushed his shoulders in the back, and tickled his jawline in the front.

He began to feel light headed, and his metal hand reached up to brace himself on the wardrobe. The metallic clacking it made on the wood made Bucky choke on what little air was actually getting inhaled. The reflection Bucky staring at him reminded him of what he saw I the mirror after getting his draft papers; a _weak_ man.

"Hey there, Bucky," a soft voice said from behind him.

Bucky's eyes shot up to the corner of the mirror to see the reflection of who spoke.

Anna was leaning on the half-open door to the hallway, dressed in what appeared to be one of his white undershirts and a pair of loose cotton pants with a pattern of thin blue and white stripes. Her feet were bare, and her blonde hair was damp and in two loose braids.

Bucky was practically trembling as he looked at Anna in the mirror. "What-What happened to me?" He choked out, his voice shaking and strained.

Anna closed the door behind herself, slowly made her way to the large bed and gave one soft, cynical laugh.

"Well, a lot of things have happened to you," she finally said, crawling onto the bed to sit cross-legged in the center. "When you were laid up with the flu for a week, you told me all about the shenanigans you, and sometimes Steve, got into before the war."

"Anna," Bucky responded, practically begging got her to both stop teasing, and to give a real answer.

"I'll tell you every single detail, but you gotta step away from the mirror, and come over to the bed so I can give you cuddles while I explain it all," the blonde bargained.

Bucky had been watching Anna's movements in the mirror, moving it slightly to keep a visual of her. That movement of the mirror, keeping Anna perfectly centered, came naturally to Bucky, but where the knowledge came from was completely forgin.

Eyeing the silver… _thing_ , that swallowed up his left arm, Bucky suddenly thought of all the damage it could do. At the same time, he couldn't imagine any scenario where he would let it close to Anna at all, least of all hurting her. He slowly made his way to the bed.

Bucky approached the footboard of the bed, then turned his back to Anna to lean on the metal footboard. With his butt against the top rail, his feet in front of him, and both hands grasping the top rail tightly.

"Bucky…"

Seeing where she was going, Bucky quickly snapped out an answer "This is as close as I'm gonna get to you with this _thing_ on my arm, Anna."

There was a heavy pause.

"You've been through a lot, Bucky," Anna finally spoke up in a soft voice. "I don't know what you can handle…How 'bout you ask me questions and I answer them?"

Bucky nodded slowly, letting his unfamiliar long hair drop over his face, hiding it from Anna even though she couldn't see it anyway. "Did-Did I really fall from the train?" He finally whispered.

"Yeah, you did," Anna answered without missing a beat.

"And what happened after?" Bucky asked, licking his lips. "Did-Did Steve jump off too and-and pull me from freezing water and-and keep me alive until the rest of the-the guys came?"

This time, Anna paused before answering, making Bucky nervous. "Bucky…Baby, that ravine was way too deep to fall in and survive."

"Then how am I here, Anna?"

Another pause.

"Somebody else pulled you out."

Bucky inhaled shakily and licked his lips again. "I-I lost my arm when I fell?"

"Yeah…It was too damaged and frost-bitten to be saved."

"And…And the-the _somebody_ who got me out of the ravine…They-They did this to me." That was a statement by Bucky, not a question. He emphasized what he was talking about exactly by tightening his left hand on the bed frame, making the inner workings of his arm creak and whirr.

"Yeah, they didn't want you to be…impaired, in any way," Anna answered carefully.

Finally, Bucky asked the question Anna was dreading to answer.

"Who?"

As simple as he asked, Anna answered just as simply.

"HYDRA."

The choked inhale that came from Bucky was audible even to Anna.

"I-I was—HYDRA had me…" He mumbled under his breath, eyes wide as he tried to wrap his brain around what he was being told.

"Darlin', what are you feeling?" Anna asked when Bucky stayed quiet.

"I can't remember anything they did to me…I can't remember being with them…"

"I can tell you why, if you want," Anna offered softly. "It's a bit of a long story, so you'll have to bear with me, baby."

There was yet another pause.

"Go on, Glow…Tell me a story," there was a pitiful twinge of humor in his voice that made Anna smile; he thought she was nervous and was trying to calm her down.

* * *

"No," Bucky said for the hundredth time, both his hands, flesh and metal, grabbing at his too-long hair. "No…no no no _no_ -"

"Bucky, you gotta calm down, sweetheart," Anna said, her voice somehow remaining level.

"You're wrong," Bucky choked out, squeezing his eyes shut. "No, no—You're wrong, you _gotta_ be wrong. I-I couldn't'a done all—No…Nononononono."

"I'm telling you the truth," Anna said in a firm, but still calm voice. "Buck, you need to sit down, calm down a little, and let me explain everything to you."

"No…No, no I understand everything," Bucky said in a voice quickened by stress and anxiety. "I understand that I was taken by HYDRA, they gave me a metal arm, and they froze and unfroze me for seventy-odd years and-and _then I-_ "

"They brainwashed you, Bucky," Anna put in when he cut himself off.

"No!" He practically yelled. "No, no they didn't! Cause-Cause I _don't remember-_ "

"Your mind split itself up to protect itself," Anna cut in again. "You, _Bucky_ , were blocked out by the rest of your mind to protect yourself. That's why you don't remember what they made you do."

"Nononononono…" Bucky kept repeating, his voice growing more stressed and high pitched as he passed and shook his head. "No no _no_ —I-I couldn't have done-"

"I'm not going to explain anymore until you _calm down_ ," Anna said, emotion seeping into her voice. Worry and stress were eating away at her as well, and it was getting hard to keep it at bay.

"I don't need you to explain anything to me!" Bucky was really yelling now, but it didn't faze Anna the slightest.

"You just found out that you're in a different _century_ than you thought, and you don't need me to explain anything to you?" Anna couldn't keep herself from asking incredulously.

"That's not what I mean and you know it!" Bucky snapped, still pacing. "I-I don't need you to explain anything to me cause it can't be true!"

"Bucky, you _cannot_ keep denying it! I can't imagine how you're feeling right not, but you need to _sit down_ , and _calm down_."

"You-You just told me that I spent the better part of _seven decades_ killing people on command like some sort of deranged dog on a leash and then you're tellin' me to _calm down_?"

"Yes!"

"I can't, Anna! I can't calm down!" Bucky responded, still yelling. "It-It can't be true—I-I couldn't have-"

"Bucky-"

"No no no no no nonononono-" he cut me off, pinching his eyes shut. "You're wrong—I-I'm me! I've always been me!"

Anna kept silent for a good ten minutes while Bucky talked and talked and _talked_ , well, _ranted_ is more like it. While trying to figure out how to prove to him what she said was true, Anna's mind kept circling back to one thing; one horrible, truly awful thing. She closed her eyes, and took one deep breath.

 _For him, not to him. For him, not to him. For him, not to him_. Anna thought that phrase over and over again, trying to justify what she was about to do to the broken, mentally fractured man pacing in front of her.

" _Longing. Rusted_." Anna said in clear, emotionless Russian. Keeping her eyes closed, she put heavy pauses between the words.

Bucky stopped pacing. He stammered out questions of what she was saying, and shook his head a few times to get rid of the gross uncomfortable feeling creeping up the back of his skull.

Anna opened her eyes, and looked unwaveringly at the man in front of her. " _Longing. Rusted. Seventeen. Daybreak._ "

"A-Anna-! G-God _damnit_! What's happening to me?" Bucky said in a voice close to snarl as he grabbed at his head and hair, pinching his eyes shut. "What-What the hell are you saying?"

I guess his mind registered the words, but it also didn't understand Russian.

" _L-Longing. Rusted. Seventeen. Daybreak. Furnace._ " Anna knew she was playing with fire; the red journal told her exactly what these words did to Bucky. Hopefully, repeating them, but not saying the full list, would be more managabul for her, and easier for Bucky to move past when it was all over.

"Stop it!" Bucky hissed through clenched teeth. "Stop it! St- _Stop_ -"

" _Longing. Rusted. Daybreak. Furnace. Nine-_ "

" **Stop it!** "

The words were screamed in Russian, and paired with a movement too fast for Anna to comprehend or counter act.

Bucky was hardly _Bucky_ when the Russian words ripped from his throat. On their own accord, his legs moved until he was by the bed, leaning over it. His metal hand wrapped around Anna's throat. There was so much force behind the grab that Anna was forced back until her head hit the mattress.

Anna looked up at the dark haired man hovering over her with wide, shocked eyes. His face was emotionless and hard, his top lip almost curled in aggression. The cerulean blue eyes, set under lowered, furrowed brows, were more black than blue; his pupils were blown wide, allowing only a thin ring of blue along the outer edge.

Hardly two seconds had passed since Bucky spouted Russian and took Anna by the neck. She waited patiently, with a wildly beating heart, for _something_ to happen.

Eventually, Bucky blinked a few times, and each time he did, the pupils of his eyes retracted and his face relaxed.

It only took a split second for Bucky to realize what he was doing. He threw himself back, off Anna, with a choked, sob-like sound.

While Anna sat up slowly, gently grasping her throat, Bucky began to stumble back, away from the bed. His flesh hand covered his nose and mouth as his eyes brimmed with tears.

"Bucky-" Anna began, moving to get up from the bed on the side Bucky stood on.

He inhaled sharply, threw his flesh hand forward, palm towards her, and turned his left shoulder away.

"Ok," Anna said abruptly. "Ok…I won't come any closer."

Bucky swallowed thickly.

"I'm going to leave now, alright?" Anna explained, sliding off the bed on the opposite side of the bed as Bucky. "You shouldn't be left alone…I'm gonna send Steve in."

Bucky didn't meet Anna's eyes, but did nod. He heard her bare feet pad across the hardwood, and the door open and shut.

When the door shut, Bucky began to cry.

* * *

Steve Rodgers slowly entered the bedroom his best friend was currently staying in. After letting his eyes scan the room, he frowned.

"Hey Buck?" Steve called out, shutting the door behind him.

The only response he got was a gross sniffle.

Sighing sadly, Steve followed the sound. It took him to the side of the bed facing the wall of windows. It was there that he found his friend. Bucky was sitting on the floor, back against the bed, knees up, elbows on his knees, and his eyes staring blankly out the windows.

"The water…" Bucky began, trailing off. His voice was thick and rough. "What-What is it?"

Steve stayed quiet, and sat down on the floor a few feet from Bucky. He stretched his legs out in front of him, crossed his ankles and dropped his hands in his lap.

"Looks like the Med," Bucky spoke up a second later, sniffling again, and brought his flesh hand up to rub his red eyes. "Is-Is it the Med, Steve?"

The blond couldn't help but chuckle once. "How the hell would you know what the Mediterranean Sea would look like?"

"Well," Bucky croaked. "I've seen the Atlantic, the Baltic Sea, the Channel…The water's too-too blue/green to be any 'a those, or the Pasific…I-I knew a few guys who came up through Italy, they saw the Med and said it was blue/green and calm as can be."

Steve nodded a little. "Yeah, it's the Med…We're on Spain's southern coast."

"So…Not Austria," Bucky mumbled cynically.

Steve stayed quiet.

"I hurt her, Steve," Bucky whispered. He could feel Steve's gaze on the side of his face, but didn't look away from the sea outside.

"You hardly left a mark on your girl, Buck," Steve said firmly. "I saw it myself…And she doesn't blame you in the slightest."

"She should…My-My hand was _around her throat_ ," he choked out. "And not the flesh 'n blood hand, _this_ _hand_!" He emphasized his words by holding his metal arm up, letting the shiny, curved panels catch the light. Bucky slowly brought his hand back down, and examined it intensely. He moved his fingers around slowly, listening to the sounds it made and the way the light reflected off the metal.

"Anna said there's a whole other guy in my head," Bucky said quietly, eyeing his hand. "The guy HYDRA trained 'n shit…

"You know, he killed people with this hand," Bucky practically whispered. " _I_ killed people with this _thing_ attached to me."

"You didn't do anything," Steve said. "You weren't you."

Bucky nodded slowly. "Yeah…Yeah, Anna said that too."

"Well then you know it's true," Steve chuckled lightly.

His friend's lip twitched into a brief smile. "Yeah…Hey Steve?"

"Yeah Bucky?"

"What do I do now?"

The question made Steve look at his damaged friend. His whispered question was paired with wide, half-glazed eyes that stared blankly out the windows. Steve cleared his throat before speaking. "I'd start by gettin' back on Anna's good side, which won't be hard…She'll help you adjust to everything, we all will…You'll catch on quick. Bucky, you won't _believe_ what they have now-!"

"That's not what I mean, Steve," Bucky mumbled. The statement deflated the blond somewhat. There was a heavy pause; both men hoped the other would break it.

Steve spoke first.

"Anna and-uh, and the rest of our team, have a theory," the captain paused briefly, gauging Bucky's reaction. "We think that the more you acclimate to 2016, and the more you learn about the guy you where, you two will eventually, sorta, meld into one man with one mind instead of one man with two."

Bucky just blinked in response.

"There were times I felt I couldn't even look at Anna cause'a the stuff I did," he explained slowly. "But now…God, Steve, I can't even remember what I did, but-but I _feel it_ , you know? I-I can feel this massive weight on my chest, like I'm pushing up a tank every time I inhale."

"Bucky…" Steve trailed off, at a loss for words.

"Wanna know what that tank is, Steve?" Bucky asked, his voice emotionless, but shaking and thick at the same time.

His best friend swallowed, and licked his lips before answering. "Sure."

Bucky remained staring out the window, his face stone and eyes glassy. His answer was simple and felt like a punch to the gut. "Death."


	47. Chapter 47: Songs and Poetry

**Well my cupcakes, this is going to be my last update for at least a few weeks. I have my first day of classes on the 22nd, so I'm gonna be pretty stressed and pretty busy.**

 **Any feedback you have on this filler-chapter would be awesome! It's mostly Winter Glow fluff, and I couldn't help it; there's a pretty awesome Stellie moment in here too.**

 *****Ellie's poetry is not mine! I would give credit to the author, but the website I got them from did not list one*****

 **Review, my cupcakes!**

 **~Christianne**

* * *

Anna POV

"Hey Steve!" I called through the great room of the villa as I descended the stairs. As I walked through a corridor, his blond head and broad shoulders appeared from the kitchen hallway.

"I'm tappin' you in," I said, clapping him on the shoulder as I passed him.

"I saw your neck, Anna," Steve called after me as I walked to the parlor.

"Well _good for you_ ," I said back snidely. "It's not even gonna leave a bruise, so spread out, wise guy."

"Ooo, he must'a taken it real bad for you to break out your 1930s slang on me," the captain chuckled.

"Oh just go help your friend you hardboiled blond!" I snapped back. I knew he was just trying to lighten the mood I'd been in since we arrived at the villa the night before, but I wanted to be pissy for a little while. I earned that right.

I heard Steve's heavy footfalls go into the great room, and continued to drag my butt to the living room. When my hips hit something soft, I dropped my torso forward so I tumbled over the back of the couch and landed face first on the cushions.

"Anna, you kinda kicked me in the face," TJ sighed once I'd settled into the sofa.

"Sorry," I sighed, moving my bare feet so they were curled into my legs.

"S'Okay," the tech mumbled, shifting into a more comfortable position on his portion of the couch.

"How'd he take it?" Clint asked from his chair opposite the couch TJ and I had claimed.

"How would you take waking up in a different century with a metal arm?" I snapped into the couch. Clint rolled his eyes; I didn't see it, but I knew the archer so well I could practically _hear it_.

"Annabelle Jane, don't make me wake up the master of the house to get you to smile," Kára sighed, announcing her presence in the room to me.

"Kar...Don't you dare," I groaned, pushing my face deeper into the cushions. "I couldn't deal with _that_ on top of everything else."

"Might be too late for that," the Valkyrie sighed. "I heard movement in the kitchen."

"Well, it could be one of the other eight people in the house," I grumbled.

"Nine, actually," TJ spoke up.

"Vision's here?" I asked. The unique, synthetic, robotic humanoid had stayed behind to oversee the Avenger's compound. We'd spoken on several occasions, but I was definitely looking forward to meeting him in the man-made flesh.

"Yeah, he got here just as we dismissed the staff," TJ informed me. "He's with Wanda now, doin' God-knows-what."

"They're watching a movie, TJ, stop making it sound so dirty," Kára complained. "It's just gross."

"Be quiet, both of you," Clint chided in his 'dad voice.' He'd been using it a lot over the last few weeks, especially dealing with TJ, Kára, Wanda, Pietro and Emilia; they all had their immature moments and Clint had no tolerance for it. Some more than others, but they all heard the infamous 'dad voice' more than a few times.

There was a pause in which I almost fell asleep.

A throaty chuckle broke the silence. "Now, am I really seeing two beautiful blonde women, or did Josephina mix up my medications again?"

I smile into the cloth-covered couch; I just couldn't help it. I lifted my head and rested it on my propped-up elbow. With a smile on my face, I said "Are you sure those are you're lying options? What about going senile?"

The older man who'd laughed smiled wide, making the age lines around his eyes seem more pronounced. "It's good to see you again, Anna. It's been a long time."

"Yes it has," I spoke through my groan as I sat up properly and stretched. Then, I bounced up to my feet and approached the man with open arms. He embraced me tightly with only one arm, as his other hand held a cup of coffee. He pressed a kiss to my cheek as we parted, making me both smile, and wrinkle my nose.

"I _do not_ approve of your beard," I said, eyeing the salt and pepper facial hair that covered the sharp jaw that was once iconic in his youth.

"I'm on a permanent vacation, as you put it once, honey," he said teasingly. "Why's an old man gotta shave when he's on vacation?"

"Oh who cared about that!" Kára said dramatically, bouncing on her heels behind me. She opened her arms wide and grinned. "My turn. I want a hug!"

The older man chuckled, and owned up his arms to Kára, who was much more enthusiastic about her hug than I was.

I rolled my eyes, and turned back to TJ and Clint, who were looking somewhat confused.

"TJ Barnes, Clint Barton, meet the master of the house, James Byron Dean," I announced dramatically, smirking at the way their mouths fell open in sync. "Jamie, these two jokers are Clint Barton, or Hawkeye as you may know him as, and, TJ Barnes, the best damn tech S.H.I.E.L.D. ever had, the grandson of Jimmy Barnes, and the great-great-nephew of the guy in need of a haircut upstairs."

"A-Anna, we're in _James Dean's_ Spanish villa?" TJ asked slowly, his cheeks tinged pink from the blush that had flared when I mentioned his family.

"Yes you are, son," Jamie chuckled, taking a drink from his coffee cup.

"You didn't think it was important to tell us we were in the hidden home of the world's first recorded technopath?" Clint asked, standing up, holding the tablet he'd been looking at to his side.

"She didn't tell me either, buddy," Jamie sighed, walking back to the kitchen. "Anybody want an egg white omelet?"

Kára's face lit up, and she began to scamper after our old friend, but stopped short. She then grabbed TJ's sleeve and towed him with her to the kitchen, where Jamie was already banging around in preparation to cook. Clint shook his head, and began walking out of the living room. He walked down the hall in the opposite direction of the kitchen, but a few seconds later, the archer passed the doorway to the living room again, and headed to the kitchen without a word.

I fell back onto the couch, which I now had all to myself.

I really hadn't seen Jamie in a while; twenty years at least. After some higher-ups allowed a young, ambitious actor and technopath to visit a nuclear power plant, he had to abruptly leave the spotlight. His abilities, given to him by the later named X-Gene, went off the charts, and he was deemed too unstable to be around the general public. I convinced S.H.I.E.L.D. to fund his fake death, rather than throw him in some box under the Colorado Rockies or kill him. So, in the fall of 1955, the life of promising young actor James Dean was cut short by a car crash. When the crash happened, Jamie was already settled into his villa in Spain; the same villa we were in now. Kára and I used to stop by for a week's vacation at least once a year, and Peggy came with a time or two. Up until his death, Howard was almost always in constant contact with Jamie. Along with being a fan of his few movies, Howard was always sending the technopath prototypes and blueprints that Jamie happily examined and toyed around with the technology no one else in the world had yet. When Howard died, Jamie battled it out with S.H.I.E.L.D. to go to his friend's funeral. Jamie aged enough not to be recognized, and was in attendance.

My trips to Jamie's villa increased once I faked my death the third time (the one that cut off my contact with Howard and Peggy among many others). I was there so frequently that Jamie had a permanent room set up for me (the room Bucky was currently in). He had his staff keep it clean and stocked with the newest designer resort wear, all in my size. Yeah, Jamie had been pretty infatuated with me when we first met, but as he grew older and matured, his feelings faded into a strong friendship. We both left countless people behind when we faked our deaths, and we had to stand back and arch as our loved ones moved on from us, and ultimately died.

In the seventies and eighties, I spent most of my time in Jamie's villa going through the ass-whooping withdrawal that Dreamland left you with after skipping one dose. He would find me slouched pointlessly by the pool or guest house in the morning, then he'd drag me to my bedroom where I'd vomit three or four times, scream now and then, and sweat out the drugs. The Jamie would feed me, and begin to plan out the week or so I'd be there.

It'd been a good seven years since I'd seen Jamie at all, and amidst all the chaos and death that made up my life now, it was nice to know that Jamie was still driving fast cars and causing trouble.

* * *

"Hey Glow...Darlin', can 'ya wake up?" A male voice gently spoke, trying to coax me awake, but I was pretty set on staying asleep. "C'mon Annie...I need to talk to you."

When it finally registered that it was Bucky talking, I forced my eyelids open. It was dark in the living room, and I had to squint to see Bucky sitting on the sturdy coffee table in front of me.

"Hey," I said with a sleepy smile as I stretched my arms over my head. "You're up and out of your room."

"Yeah," Bucky mumbled, reaching to stretch the back of his neck. "I-I had 'ta kinda wonder around this massive place to find you...I've been sittin' here for, maybe, an hour, waitin' for you to wake up. But, I guess, I-I got a little anxious..."

I cracked a smile. "Don't worry about it, I shouldn't be sleepin' on this sofa anyway, the fabric leaves a weird pattern on my skin. But, then again, you kinda hijacked my bedroom, so..."

"That was your room I woke up in?" Bucky asked, looking oddly surprised.

"Yep," I conformed simply. Leaning back on one hand, I reached my other forward to touch his cheek, my thumb trailing over his cheekbone. "I picked out the paper 'cause I thought the flowers matched your eyes."

One corner of Bucky's mouth quirked up, and his he'd ducked down in a bashful manner.

"So...Steve explained some stuff to me," Bucky began, looking down at his thumbs. "About-About how my head works."

I pushed myself up into a half-sitting position, and watched intently, waiting for him to speak more.

"I-I know what I want to do—I mean, how-how I want to proceed, with, things," Bucky continued, his brows furrowed as he thought, and spoke choppily. "If-If things are gonna, sorta, come back to me as I—What's the word… _acclimate_ , I think…Yeah, acclimate—If things are going to come back to me as I acclimate, then I-I wanna just lay low and see what happens."

"That's a pretty damn good plan, Bucky," I sighed, smiling.

"I-I have a-a condition, though," he said quickly, gnawing on his bottom lip. I raised my brows expectantly, patiently waiting for Bucky to speak.

He looked down, and rubbed his left hand with his right thumb harshly. The movements forced the plates too far back and over-extended them, resulting in a quiet grinding sound from his arm as it tried to repair itself.

"Get rid of it," Bucky whispered.

My brows furrowed. "Get rid-?"

"The arm, Anna," Bucky said quickly. He cut himself off with a deep breath. "I-I want to get rid of the arm, Anna."

I just looked at him in shock. I was expecting some ussies with how he perceived himself with his new appendage, but for him to want to _get rid of it_ when he'd only been aware of it for a matter of hours threw me for a loop.

"Bucky…Baby, have you really thought this through?" I asked gently, not really sure what I should say to him.

"I-I don't want sumthin' _they_ gave me," Bucky said lowly.

Everything we'd prepared for, and here I was, completely unprepared and _winging it_. A thought entered my head, and as underhanded as it felt, I couldn't think of anything else to do.

"Fine," I forced out in a quiet, half-choked voice. Bucky looked up, mildly shocked, when I spoke. "But before I wake up Tony and tell him to heat up his blow torch, you gotta do something for me."

"Yeah," Bucky nodded. "Yeah, anythin' for you, darlin'."

I stood up, and Bucky quickly did the same. I managed to catch his left hand, and gave him a warning look when he tried to yank it away. I led him to the sun room in the back of the villa, and flipped only one of the five light switches. The dim lights illuminated the sun room just enough for me to see. I let go of Bucky's hand and went to one corner of the room.

When I peeked over my shoulder, I saw him just standing in the center of the tiled floor, admiring the sun room. The room was, at my best guess, 85% glass, allowing one to look around and see the starry sky, the powder-white sand, the dark sea, and everything in between.

"Before you go and rip off body parts, you gotta indulge me in something I've been waiting a very long time for," I spoke up, pulling a vinyl record from its thick paper sleeve. With the skill of an artist, I spun the record between two of my fingers before placing it on the turn table set up in the book case built into the wall. I turned the dial on the turn table, both turning it on and raising the volume. The beginning static quickly faded into familiar opening cords.

"Dance with me?" I requested softly, holding both my hands out to Bucky.

Bucky had a slightly apprehensive look on his face as he approached me. When he stopped, our toes were almost touching, and his hands were clenching and unclenching at his sides.

"I'm a little rusty," I sighed, reaching for one of his hands. I held one in my hand, out and up, and brought his metal hand to the small of my back before putting my hand on his shoulder. Where I used to place my hand when we danced was now half covered with metal, so I moved my hand higher up his neck.

" _Try to think that love's not around,  
But its uncomfortably near.  
My old heart ain't gainin' not ground,  
Because my Angel Eyes ain't here…_" Ella Fitzgerald's familiar voice flowered through the speakers on the front of the turn table and surrounded us both.

During the first verse, Buky began leading us through familier dance steps that I haven't done in decades. As we danced, I brought my head to Bucky's chest and pressed my ear over his heart. On instinct it seemed, Bucky held me tighter, and his metal thumb began to draw circles through my t-shirt.

"I know what you're doin', Anna," Bucky mumbled as Ella began her next verse.

I kept my eyes closed.

Bucky, whether he knew it or liked it, was going to be a part of a fight that was not going to be easy in any sense of the word. As much as he hated his arm and where it came from, he would definitely need it. At the very least, to defend himself against the onslaught of people who would be coming after him.

"Is it working?" I whispered into his chest.

There was a pause before Bucky spoke. "…Maybe."

My lips twitched up into a weak smile. "What does 'Maybe' mean?"

"It means…It doesn't mean that it's not _not_ working…"

I let out a soft giggle at his words, and peaked up at him. "Will you at least consider keeping it? At-At least until the-the threats to you and me are gone?" I knew I was tugging at his heartstrings and playing off his protective instincts, but with everything on my plate, _this_ was just something that _needed_ to wait.

In response, Bucky twirled me out and spun me back effortlessly, caught me tight and dipped me low. Instead of bringing me back up right away, he held me up easily by the metal hand on my back. When he did bring me back up, he did it slowly.

"You…You don't seem rusty at all, Glow," he breathed, holding me against his chest as we swayed lazily to the music.

"You don't seem to be answering my question," I mumbled back in the same tone.

"Aw, 'ya caught that, did 'juh?"

"You know I did…I always do."

"…I don't want anything HYDRA gave me, you know that…You hate them as much as I do," Bucky began slowly.

"More," I blurted out, looking up at him. I moved my hand from his shoulder to his face. Bucky's baby blues fluttered shut as my thumb trailed over his cheekbone and my fingers curled over his jaw. "They-They kept you away from me for _years_ , sweetheart…Seventy years—A while _lifetime_."

Bucky opened his eyes, and we just looked at each other for some time. I began to feel a little self-conscious, and ducked my head down. "Sorry…Sorta interrupted you, there."

A kiss was pressed to my head. Ella's voice had long-since stopped, but Bucky and I continued to sway rhythmically in the dark sun room.

"You know how much I hate HYDRA…" Bucky started up again. "So…If-If you want me to keep this thi- _thing_ , you must have a real good reason, 'cause you know it's a lot to ask of me."

I kept silent.

"I-I really trust you, Anna," Bucky said in a shaky voice. "So-So I'm trustin' you with this."

The words sunk in slowly, and they were both awful and exactly what I needed to hear. I'd manipulated him to get the result I wanted, but the result I wanted intailed him being able to protect himself.

"Thank you," I said in a very small voice.

Bucky stopped swaying. "The music stopped."

I smiled softly, and leaned up to kiss his cheek. "Be right back," I told him, then scampered off to the bookcase once again.

After turning off the turntable and returning the record to its paper sleeve, I went to a different portion of the case and flipped up a screen. I tapped on it until my list of playlists was up, and scrolled until I found the one I was looking for; "1935 – 1945 Slow." Selecting the playlist, I then went to look at the speaker options. Jamie always had _the best_ when it came to technology; he didn't want to listen to Buddy Holly or Elvis on _anything_ less than the best. As I dragged my finger over the screen, bringing the volume of the music up, I turned around to watch Bucky.

His face lit up as he paced in a slow circle as he looked around. The soothing tunes of Glenn Miller's Orchestra began to swim through the air from hidden speakers throughout the room. To Bucky, though, who'd never experienced surround sound, it probably seemed like the music was coming from the stars.

I couldn't help but smile as I approached the awed brunet still looking around the room. "Like it?"

"It-It's amazing!" Bucky said, grinning wide.

His smile made me want to cry; it'd been so long since I'd seen it, and now that I could see it, I didn't want to take it for granted, not even for a second.

"It's like the whole band is in here with us!—No, it's like we're in the middle of the orchestra pit!" Bucky mused, still grinning.

I giggled a little, and then a little harder when Bucky grabbed my hand and pulled it high into a twirl, catching me as he pulled me back.

We danced until dawn—literally. The sun was coming up when my playlist finally ran out.

I kept pinching myself, or yanking sharply on my hand to make sure I was really awake.

Bucky dancing with me 'till dawn…I'd dreamed of that very thing since I lost him in 1946.

* * *

Omniscient POV

Ellie was shyly peeking around the corner of a hallway. Her big green eyes were watching a figure sitting outside, sitting in the shade of an umbrella on the terrace. She gnawed on her bottom lip as she thought back to a conversation she had with Jamie earlier that morning.

 **_-~0O0~-_**

" _See 'ya later, Ells," Steve said as he passed behind Ellie, who was seated in the living room with one of her notebooks. As he passed behind her, Steve put a hand on the brunette's shoulder and squeezed._

 _Since nobody else was in the room, Ellie let a small smile cross her lips, and a light flush colored her face, neck and ears. The brunette was wearing a light sundress to fully enjoy the warm Spanish weather. So when Steve put a hand on Ellie's shoulder, his large, warm palm clasped over her slim shoulder skin-to-skin. The one-inch linen strap did close to nothing to limiting the feeling of Steve's palm on Ellie's shoulder._

" _Ah, I know that look."_

 _Ellie let out a yelp when an amused voice spoke from the right._

 _Jamie chuckled, and eased himself into a chair near Ellie. The mischievous, knowing smile on his face made the lines around his eyes all the more prominent. "Feel kinda warm? Have a twist in your stomach like you're at the top of a roller-coaster, lookin' down at the big drop ahead of you?"_

 _The brunette looked down bashfully and nodded. Her fingers played with the ribbon marker in her notebook, and her other hand tapped her pen on the open pages._

" _Anna told me you write a lot of poetry," James struck up again, taking a sip of the iced tea he had. Ellie nodded, tucking hair behind her ear. "Why is that, if I can ask?" Jamie questioned. "You seem like the kind of gal who could do just about anything."_

 _Ellie shrugged. "Poetry is what happens when nothing else can."_

 _The old technopath nodded slowly, and took another drink of iced tea. "Have anything I could read?"_

 _Slowly, Ellie paged through the notebook, then held it out to Jamie. The pages were open to a blurb about sunshine._

 _Jamie took his glasses from the pocked of his linin shirt, and once they were perched on the bridge of his nose, he held the notebook up. The actor nodded his head in appreciation. His blue eyes took notice of the poem on the next page. Jamie glanced at Ellie, and leaned on the arm of his chair to be slightly closer to Ellie. His aged, smooth voice that captivated people in his few movies began reading._

"I'm too shy  
To tell you  
How I feel.  
So I'll hide behind  
Timid smiles  
And soft hellos.  
I'm too afraid  
To ask you  
"What do you  
Think of me?"  
Because your reply  
Could simply be  
"I don't." _"_

 _Ellie's throat constricted as she heard the poem she'd penned a week ago._

" _This about that blond captain?" Jamie asked, true to his nosey nature. It was a trait he acquired in the ten years following his 'death.' Being holed up in his luxurious villa made the, at the time, young man go stir crazy. Prying into the lives of his S.H.I.E.L.D. babysitters or staff was his only true entertainment._

 _Jamie took the blushed silence from the brunette as a 'yes.' "You know, 'till you ask, it'll just fill you up inside."_

 _Ellie glanced up with furrowed brows._

" _The not knowing," Jamie clarified. "It'll fill you up and just crash against your insides until its all you think about…And 'sides, I've seen how that blond looks at you—I'll bet my fastes car that he's smitten just as hard as you are._

 _The brunette's eyes sparkled hopefully, which made Jamie smile. Ellenore was a beautiful woman, there was no doubt about that. Her facial features were dainty and oddly ethereal. There were times when she reminded him of a painting of an angel painted by a master. She was a classic kind of pretty, the kind that never went out of style. Add to that her maturity which surpassed his own (though according to Anna, that wasn't a difficult feat) by leaps and bounds, Ellie was a beautiful_ person _. Yet, this was the first time Jamie really saw her smile. That spark was as close as Jamie'd seen yet. It didn't last long, though. Ellie looked down and played with the hem of her dress around her knees._

" _Thank you for your vote of confidence, Mr. Dean," Ellie began, her eloquent voice was soft and sounded like music. "But-But maybe I'm better off alone, because no one else has ever loved me the same way I love them. I've never felt like anybody wants me or needs me…The most I can hope for is for people to stop using me, and star really loving me for who I am and not what I can do for them."_

 _Jamie chuckled, closed the notebook, and took off his glasses. "Ellie, you don't open up too many people, do you?" She shook her head. "And you opened up to the captain?" A slow nod._

" _You're in a centuries old villa on the Spanish coast of the Mediterranean. No better place to confess love," Jamie said with a mischievous smile. "And if he ends up bein' a tool and no reciprocating, that's nothing this blue-green water can't cure."_

 **_-~0O0~-_**

That was hours ago, and Ellie was still trying to decide off she _really_ wanted to have the conversation Jamie urged her to have. Not really having made up her mind, Ellie began to approach the terrace, clutching her notebook.

"Hi Steve," she greeted timidly, standing a few feet from the lounge chair the captain claimed.

Steve turned and smiled at Ellie, who was still practically inside the villa. "Hey Ells," he responded, moving a few things to the coffee table in front of him, so the chair next to his was free for Ellie to sit in. "Don't just stand there…Take a seat."

Since Bucky was himself again, and Jamie assured everyone that it was safe here at his villa, the team of heroes had some rare moments of relaxation. It took a day or two for it all to sink in, but they happily slept in, lounged and caught up on TV while Anna helped Bucky.

As Ellie hid her slight blush, Steve caught notice of her dress. It was just an ordinary sundress, really; the blue-green fabric was light and flowy on Ellie's petite body. The smock-style dress had a slimmer fit up top, until the drop waist, where it had more fabric. Steve's first thought was that it looked like Ellie could've bought the dress at the corner shop six blocks from his old Brooklyn apartment, and his second thought was how well it suited Ellie's personality. It was delicate, feminine, and fairly modest, but still relaxed and free.

The brunette perched herself at the edge of her chair, and played with her notebook in her lap. She eyed the various things on the coffee table. A thick novel with a bookmark in the middle, a handful of mission file, and his sketch book.

"What are you reading?" Ellie asked.

"Hm? Oh," Steve stammered briefly, having been staring out at the Mediterranean to avoid staring at Ellie. The blond reached forward and picked up the slightly aged, hardcover book. " _The Hiding Place_."

As Ellie examined the cover art, Steve briefly explained what the book was about. "This woman, her sister and father lived in Holland during the war. They, I guess, began the Dutch Underground. They hid Jews from the Nazis and helped them escape to safety."

"It-It sounds interesting," Ellie commented softly.

"Yeah, it's a pretty good read," Steve confirmed with a nod. "It's, well…Reading about somebody involved with the war, and how they feel years later, looking back…"

Seeing they were drifting into darker, less happy thoughts, Ellie blurted out the first thing she could think of; "How'd you decide on this one to read?"

Steve gladly took the lifeline Ellie gave him in stride. "Anna suggested it to me," he explained. "Apparently, Jamie gave her control of the massive library in this place."

"Anna has always said she has an extensive book collection," Ellie recalled. "First editions, antique manuscripts and signed copies."

"Yeah," Steve chuckled, holding up _The Hiding Place_ again. "This one's signed. Apparently, Anna knew the author pretty well. She wrote a pretty long note to her in the front."

"What does it say?" Ellie asked curiously. Anna had more stories than most her (actual) age, but she rarely spoke of her time as a scientists during the Second World War, and the years that followed immediately after.

"No idea," Steve sighed, dropping the book back on the coffee table. When Ellie looked at him with brows furrowed in confusion, Steve gave her a wry smile and said "I don't speak Dutch."

They shared a laugh, and briefly swapped stories of Anna's frustratingly amazing skill for languages.

Once the laughing died down, the pair lapsed into silence. Steve noticed that Ellie was nervously rubbing her fingers over the corner of her notebook. Steve had taken notice of Ellie's behavior change around the time of the Ultron battle. At first, he attributed it to the brunette experiencing her first true fight, but then he noticed that Ellie only seemed to act differently around him. The captain originally thought that when the brunette came to sit next to him on the sunny terrace, it was marking the end of her odd behavior, but seeing her fidget nervously, Steve knew something was still wrong.

"Sunthin' you wanna talk to me about, Ells?" Steve finally asked.

She shrugged. "I'm sure I could think of something…"

"C'mon, Ellie," Steve sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face, which had a golden layer of stubble covering his jaw. Ellie had never seen Steve not clean shaven, and the scruff along his jaw and upper lip intrigued her. Steve leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "I know you pretty well, you know, and I can tell there's sumthin' eatin' at you."

Again, Ellie shrugged, and frowned a little bit. She was slowly, with every exhale, losing her nerve. "I-I've been diagnosed with clinical depression more than twenty years ago and my mutation keeps medication from helping me…There's always something 'eating at me'…"

"Well, I think there's something specific that's bothering you," Steve said, raising a brow slightly as he gazed at the brunette.

There were several beats of silence.

Steve broke it. "Ellie…Ells, did I do something wrong?"

Ellie shot her head up so fast her hair covered most of her face. "Wh-What?" She asked, quickly raking her hair back with her fingers.

"Back in New York, we'd hang out all the time," Steve reminded her. "Now, it's like you hardly talk to me at all."

"I-I'm sorry," Ellie said in an earnest, soft voice. "I didn't-I didn't mean to make you feel like that."

"It's fine," Steve assured her quickly. "Just…You gotta give me _something_ , Ells."

Steve's request was more than reasonable, and Ellie began searching for a way to answer his question. "I…I've missed spending time with you, she admitted slowly.

"Me to, Ells," Steve half-chuckled.

Ellie opened her mouth to speak, but quickly shut it. After taking a deep breath with closed eyes, Ellie spoke very quickly. "I really like spending time with you."

The captain furrowed his brows at _how_ Ellie said a relatively mundane sentence. "Yeah, I like spending time with you to."

"No, well, yes, but—" Ellie cut herself off and gnawed on her lip again. "I-I _really_ …like spending time with you."

Steve's face remained confused for three seconds more, before his brows shot up in surprise and understanding.

"Oh."

That's all he managed to get out.

"I'm sorry, I-I shouldn't have said anything—"

"No, Ells—"

The blond and the brunette had begun to speak at the same time, but stopped abruptly when the other spoke. In that second of silence, Sam yelled to the brunette from inside the villa. "Hey Ellie! TJ and Tony need you for something!"

"OK!" Ellie said quickly, jumping up from her chair.

"Wait!" Steve half-yelped, throwing an arm out to grab Ellie. One arm was practically thrown around her waist as a way to keep her close, and the other hand grabbed hers tightly.

"You comin' Ellie?" Sam called again. Clearly, he couldn't see when was going on out in the terrace.

"Tell TJ and Tony that she'll be down later," Steve called back to Sam, his gaze not leaving Ellie's wide-eyed face.

"Whatever, man," Sam half-yelled back, chuckling. "I'm gonna go play a round of pool with _James Dean!_ "

Ellie was looking down at her bare feet in the seconds that followed Sam leaving them. The weather was warm, hot, even, but the stones beneath her bare feet were oddly cool; she attributed to it the sun-bleached white color they were. The sunlight that came from the sky reflected off the smooth, worn stones and bounced away before the heat was absorbed.

Steve gave a wry, weak, embarrassed smile up at Ellie. "Couldn't let 'ya run off after sayin' sumthin' like that, could I?"

The brunette giggled weakly, the anxiety and nervousness she felt was clear in her bell-like laugh.

Through the years, including those during the war and after he left the ice, Steve didn't have much time to sit and think about romance. Not that it stopped him from falling for Peggy. But with help from Anna, Steve had steadily moved on from the British agent. He hated the term with a passion, but he didn't think about it enough to give it another name. Peggy would always be a part of his life, a big one, but she had led a life without him (like he wanted her too). It seemed reasonable Steve could search for happiness as well. And if that happiness took the form of a petite, brunette mutant, he wanted to explore that happiness.

"Everything's better when you're around, Ells," Steve admitted softly, pulling the petite woman closer, until she eventually perched on the arm of Steve's lounge chair. "Doesn't matter what we're doing…Watching a movie, planning a mission, testing new tech—Just-Just _anything_ …It's better when you're there."

Ellie didn't look up. Steve finally followed her gaze and realized the arm he'd thrown around her waist had ended up wrapped around her entirely, with his palm blatantly on her inner thigh. His cheeks flushed violently as he quickly removed his hand from Ellie's leg.

"Do you really enjoy reading my poems?" The brunette asked softly.

Steve knew a loaded question when he heard one, especially when it came from Ellie. She wrote constantly, almost obsessively at times. By asking about her poetry, Ellie, lacking some self-esteem, was asking if he really did enjoy her company, even her odd or annoying habits and tendencies.

"Yes," the captain replied in a quiet voice that was a little less masculine than he would've liked. Ellie, on the other hand, seemed to thoroughly enjoy it, going by the light blush on her cheeks.

Slowly, Ellie moved to sit in her old chair. "I-I wrote this for-for you," Ellie stammered, her shaking hands fumbling through her notebook. Eventually, she handed Steve the leather-bound notebook.

He took it from her carefully, and began to read the elegantly written poem on the heavy paper.

 _If you date me  
_ _You date my silly giggle.  
_ _You date my constant  
_ _Anxiety  
_ _Nervousness  
_ _And stress.  
_ _You'd be dating my happiness  
_ _For the little things  
_ _Like flowers  
_ _Or rays of sunshine.  
_ _My two am sadness.  
_ _My overwhelming thoughts  
_ _That make me panic.  
_ _If you date me  
_ _You'd be dating  
_ _Everything about me.  
_ _I know it's a lot to ask  
_ _And if you can't do that  
_ _Please don't bother.  
_ _It's just that  
_ _I have been broken  
_ _Far too many times  
_ _By people who accept me  
_ _Until one day  
_ _They don't._

Steve glanced up at the brunette when her pen began tapping anxiously on her palm. He quickly flipped to a clean paged marked by the ribbon, and put the notebook on her knee. The signs of Ellie's need to write something down became quite apparent to Steve within hours of Ellie arriving at the Avenger's Facility.

While the green-eyed girl furiously wrote in her notebook, Steve silently picked up his sketch book and a charcoal pencil.

Neither said a word for almost fifteen minutes. The brunette was practically in a daze as she wrote, and the blonde glanced up now and then, but focused mostly on his notebook. As they sat there with one another, they both felt their anxiety and stress melt away.

"Wait! No, don't move," Steve said quickly when Ellie began to lean back in her chair and moved to shut her notebook.

"Why?" Ellie asked, mildly alarmed.

Steve looked down, almost bashfully, at his sketchbook, his charcoal pencil dragging over the page as he created the beginnings of Ellie's face and upper body. "I can't sketch you if you move around," he mumbled.

Ellie's cheeks darkened with an embarrassingly pink blush that Steve quickly committed to memory so it could be added to the sketch even if it faded. After his quiet words, the brunette quickly returned to her original position. They talked idly about aspects of the luxurious villa and the amazing things inside it as Ellie wrote her quiet thoughts and Steve drew.

The blond let his gaze linger on the woman maybe a little longer than needed, and when his blue eyes left her, her green eyes flashed to gaze at him; at how he bit the corner of his mouth in concentration. Both were slightly baffled in their innermost, slightly insecure selves.

Steve, that such a pretty girl allowed herself to be drawn by him. Ellie, that any man, let alone one as handsome as Steve, wanted to draw her.


	48. Chapter 48: The Villa

**Sorry I haven't posted in a while.**

 **College is kicking my fucking ass.**

 **Review!**

 **~Christianne**

* * *

 ***Unedited***

* * *

Anna POV

"C'mon...Bucky! I'm hungry!" I pouted; both of my hands were around his flesh wrist, trying to tug him from our shared bed.

"Can't I wait until everybody else has, uh, already eaten? I-I don't want to just stand around and take up space-"

"Oh my God-Bucky, there are waffles, scrambled eggs, hashbrowns and a butt-load of bacon being cooked by one of the Air Force's best special ops pilots in the kitchen down stairs!" I said loudly. That seemed to catch Bucky's attention. I grinned, linked my fingers behind my back and twisted back and forth on my feet. The movement caused the sundress I was wearing to flow around me, and the braid my hair was in to swing across my back. "I made sure Jamie ordered that special maple syrup you like."

Forcing a look of skepticism on his face, Bucky narrowed his eyes. "The one I told you about 70 years ago?"

"Yup," I grinned. "It's been family owned in Quebec since 1899..."

Bucky groaned, and got out of bed with a frustrated frown on his face. I, on the other hand, smiled and linked my fingers with his flesh ones, and swung our joined hands together as we walked down the hallways. Eventually, Bucky's frowny face turned into an even funnier one; he was trying _so hard_ not to smile.

By the time we were entering the kitchen, my soldier had a calm, lazy smile over his lips, and his hand was lighting swinging with mine. But, as the arched doorway to the large kitchen approached, Bucky's face tensed and his eyes filled with anxiety. I squeezed his hand, making him look down at me. "Hey...It'll be fine...You're just getting breakfast, not trying to overthrow a government!"

Rolling his eyes at my poor attempt of humor, Bucky allowed me to tug him into the kitchen.

"Morning Rhodey!" I said cheerfully, hopping up on a stool at the island. When Bucky kept standing at the doorway, I patted the seat next to me, but he didn't move. Frowning, I followed his gaze to see what caught his full and undivided attention.

Wanda, dressed in matching sleep shorts and camisole with an exotic, vintage looking silk robe (no doubt from Emilia's collection) draped over her shoulders. She had a mug in her hands, close to her face as she leaned a hip on the granite counter top. The enhanced young woman was gazing sleepily out at the teal waves that crashed on the powder white sand. She _obviously_ knew Bucky was looking at her, but she didn't respond to it. Whether she wanted to keep her powers from him until he acclimated more, not to scare him, or, possibly out of fear.

"Bucky," I finally said, slipping off the stool and putting a hand on Wanda's shoulder. "You remember her?"

"...Vaguely," he finally mumbled out, his brows furrowing as he looked at Wanda. "We met, right? Well, er, you met _him_ , right?"

Wanda gave Bucky a gentle smile and nodded. "Yes, I did."

Bucky got an unreadable expression on his face as he looked around anxiously and scratched the back of his neck. "Did-...Did I-?"

"No harm came to me or my brother by you, Bucky," Wanda finished that part of the conversation. "You did have an... _interaction_ , with my brother, but I have no doubt he deserved it in some way."

That unreadable expression on Bucky's face softened to one of only slight hesitation.

I snorted and rolled my eyes as I returned to my seat. "Don't worry about little Miss Maximoff, honey," I laughed. "She can take care of herself, and a group of people equivalent to the population of Manhattan."

Wanda blushed softly as a proud smile crept up onto her face. "Well, I wouldn't go quite _that_ far..."

Her modesty was cut off by footsteps, and soft, accented voices that approached the kitchen. Soon, Pietro and the slender brunette leaning against his arm entered the kitchen. The speedster looked sleep-ruffled and relaxed in an oversized button down only held closed with one or two buttons, exposing most of his chest and the waistband of the basketball shorts around his hips. The brunette holding his hand dressed similarly to Wanda; cotton sleep shorts with a matching camisole, but rather than a silk robe, this brunette donned an ethereal chiffon robe with an intricately dyed pattern, and wore more jewelry on her fingers and wrists.

"Ok, I think introductions are in order," I said, noticing how the tension in the kitchen increased to a palpable level when the two young people noticed Bucky hovering by the doorway.

"First, this is the esteemed Colonel James Rhodes, otherwise known as Rhodey," I said dramatically, gesturing to the pilot in front of the stove. Rhodey turned slightly, and gave Bucky a smile, as well as a wave by the spatula.

"You already met the wonderful Wanda Maximoff," I began. "This lanky blond dude is her aforementioned brother, Pietro."

The bleach-blond, who was already devouring a pancake, looked up at Bucky. He greeted my soldier by jerking his chin up once; an action that Bucky then copied.

"And the brunette hangin' off his arm is-"

"Jakov!" Emilia yelled, pushing away from Pietro with enough force to make him stumble slightly. She ran to Bucky and grabbed his neck. The gypsy girl planted two kisses on each of his cheeks. Once the very European greeting was done, Emilia held his face as she babbled in enthusiastic Romanian. The whole interaction had Bucky looking down at the brunette rambling in, to his ear, a completely unknown language, and could only nod dumbly. After a minute or two, he glanced at me with a questioning look on his face.

"He only knows _English_ , Emilia," I laughed, taking the cup of coffee Wanda handed me. "If anything, all you're doing is confusing him."

The gypsy abruptly stopped speaking, and frowned at Bucky. " _Only_ English? What kind of man spends _all that time_ in other countries and does not pick up the native languages?"

"I-Uh...I-I picked up some German," Bucky said, stammering slightly, no doubt from the accusatory tone, and Emilia's intense green eyes.

She huffed, and swiftly returned to Pietro's side. With deft fingers, she stole a pinch of hash browns from his plate. "Probably _swear_ _words_."

"I-I'm sorry," Bucky interjected, considerably flustered. "Who are you, exactly?"

"Aw, you don't remember me, Jakov?" Emilia pouted dramatically.

I went to stand next to my soldier, and spoke low, so only he could hear. "Remember that girl you pulled out of that orphanage in Romania?"

Bucky nodded, eyes still on Emilia, who he _still_ couldn't place. She was not playfully fighting Pietro for food on his plate anymore; she merely nibbled on the pancake he'd rolled up like a burrito after filling it with strawberries, blueberries and other sweet things.

"Turns out the little Romani kid had a few special gifts regarding energy..." I trailed off. His brow was furrowed deep in thought trying to place the girl in question. "Hey, Bucky...The more you try to force yourself to remember, the harder it's going to be...Just relax and let it come to you..."

After a second more of frustrated staring, Bucky finally nodded. I smiled as his flesh arm came to rest softly on my waist, tugging me just a little closer.

Hardly ten minutes had gone by before the dark haired, mentally damaged soldier sitting next to me jumped up from his seat. Bucky rushed to the little brunette and swept her up in a tight hug, all while apologizing for not recognizing her sooner, over and over and over. Emilia just shook her head, and hugged him back. I knew Bucky would be more than happy to have the little brown-eyed girl he was so taken with around, but it also concerned me. Emilia would no doubt tell her Jakov how her powers of energy manipulation worked, and the complexities were enough to concern me. But finding out that his little Emmie, the child he held on his hip for a good three days, had killed so many people? That she was all but indifferent to killing people she deemed bad?

 _That_ might be a problem.

* * *

Omniscient POV

Sam, Rhodey and Steve were with Bucky in one of the many TV rooms in the villa. They were watching war-era films of the very end of the war, solidifying to Bucky that it was all over. Since her beau was engrossed in old films, Anna caught up on some much needed sleep.

Everyone in Jamie's home was in their own little bubble. Tony and the famous James Dean were in the garage, talking cars and electronics while the billionaire worked on his suit. Helen was gathering all her things; she was to fly back to Korea in a few days. Wanda, Vision, Pietro and Emilia were on the beach, all doing different things; Vision was very interested in the microorganisms in the water, Wanda was sunbathing, and Pietro and Emilia were embracing the 'couple' dynamic that had been placed on them by chasing each other around the sand and shallow water in their bathing suits. Ellie was in the library, and Cint was video chatting with his family.

TJ was the only one who was actively hiding in the villa, not relaxing. There was an enclosed portion of porch that TJ had claimed for all his technical gear. It was the best spot to have his equipment that needed to stay cool.

With his chin resting on his crossed arms, he stared at the code run over the screen. Something in A.L.I.C.E.'s rendering software was wrong, so he decided to manually go through the code.

"Hey, why don't you take a break?"

"Finished with your family call already?" TJ asked in response to Clint's suggestion.

"I was on with them for two hours," Clint said, frowning slightly as he looked at the tech; slumped on his desk, hair a mess and a few days worth of stubble on his face. "Have you even moved since you helped me set up the secure link?"

"I don't think so..." TJ trailed off, eyes still locked on the code rolling over the screen.

"Why don't you take a break...Go to the media lounge and hang out with the guys...It's where I'm goin' next," Clint suggested, leaning on the entryway of TJ's tech cave.

"Nah...Nah, I'm good in here," TJ said, swallowing thickly.

"You know, Anna was talking to Bucky," Clint began, eyeing the back of TJ's head. "Seems like you haven't had a face to face with him yet."

"It's a big house," TJ insisted weakly. "Must'a never crossed paths."

Clint had been hard on the gangly S.H.I.E.L.D. legacy in the past, but in recent years the archer had developed a soft spot for the tech. He really was a brilliant technician and mission strategist, but the bar that had been held over his head at S.H.I.E.L.D. was unattainable.

"He's your, what? Great uncle?" Clint asked, entering the room. He idly picked up a random metal, spindle-like object and began to spin it in his fingers.

"It's great great..." TJ answered without a thought. "You know, Anna and Kara told Bucky all about what Rebecca's kids did, and their kids...They're some of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s finest...Weapons experts, hand to hand revolutionaries-My granddad was in the first class of Operations Academy graduates, and my dad gave the whole academy system an overhaul when I was in elementary school. And what have I done? I made an AI and named it after my sister's favorite cartoon."

"What?" Clint asked, perking up at the end.

"A.L.I.C.E.," TJ repeated. "You know, from Alice in Wonderland."

"No, I know that," Clint said, rolling his eyes. "What kind of father do you think I am? I mean about the sister thing."

TJ clammed up.

"Alright, be like that," the archer sighed, tossing the metal object he'd been playing with back on a table. "But you're gonna have to face him at some point."

"That's what my dad said about my middle school bully, Paul Jefferys," TJ said idly.

"And?"

"Never had to face him. Moved to a STEM magnet school the next semester," TJ answered with a sigh.

Clint left the room, shaking his head.

TJ finally found the small error in the code, and once he corrected it, there was absolutely nothing left for him to do.

He looked to his left, at the small frame propped up against his center monitor; Bucky's Silver Star.

Sighing in defeat, the tech opened up his personal email account and began writing so his father, asking for a little favor.

* * *

Tony was in the garage, tinkering with one of Jamie's sports cars. It was some little Italian thing from the 1960s, and it had intrigued the billionair since he laid eyes on it. When the owner of said car gave him free reign on everything in the garage (with exception of a covered car in the back) Tony threw the baby blue hood up and hand been under it ever since.

"Whoa."

Looking up from the car part he was rubbing off with a rag, Tony turned to face the voice that had let out the surprised sound; someone was standing in the doorway that led from the garage to the villa.

"Hey there Tin-Man," Tony said dryly, tossing the rag to the floor. "Need some oil to drink? Some coolant, maybe?"

"...Just 'cause my arm is metal, doesn't make me a car," Bucky grumbled, annoyed but trying to be nice. He crossed his arms, trying to cover as much of his metal arm with his flesh one as he could in doing so. The long-haired soldier took a few more steps into the garage. "We-We haven't met...Officially."

"Yeah, well, you're dead," Tony said, replacing the car part. He then looked up at Bucky from over the hood. "You know, _officially_."

Bucky let out a small laugh; just an amused breath through his nose and a minute half-smile. He walked closer to the hero playing mechanic, and leaned against a workbench a few yards away. "I'm Bucky...But you already know that," he sighed, frowning a little.

"That's the understatement of the year," Tony declared, grabbing a package of Oreos stashed on top of a toolbox. He bit into one, and spoke while he chewed. "I've been hearin' 'bout you and Captain Stars-and-Stripes since I was a kid."

"Yeah...Yeah, you're Tony, right?" Bucky asked, scratching the back of his head with his metal hand. He wince as he scratched a bit too hard, and the metal plates of his finger tips dug into his scalp and pulled at his hair; the metal appendage was taking some getting used to, now that Bucky's habitual movements were back. "Anna told me about the whole team...I've been putting names to faces."

"Hm," Tony said simply, turning back to the car.

"You're Howard's kid, right?" Bucky asked a second later.

Tony clenched his jaw not to snap at the guy; Anna would dangle him out a window. He knew a little something about being in a precarious mental state, and he knew people who'd been out of their own minds while still in their own bodies; he had some sympathy for the guy. Besides, there would be plenty of time to sass the guy later. "Yeah...I'm Howard's kid."

"Anna told me that Howard got married...Her-Her name was Mary, right? Your-Your mom?" Bucky asked hesitantly. Howard had been one of Bucky's good friends way back when, and Anna was so reluctant to talk about him. His gal had also told him to be careful around Tony; he'd been through a lot too, and wasn't a big fan of her, or talking about his childhood.

"Maria," Tony corrected, a toneless voice; not a hint of emotion. It surprised Bucky; even though he lost his momma before he could read, he couldn't say her name as coldly as Tony said his own momma's name.

"Oh...Sorry," Bucky said, almost mumbling. "I-I knew that, I _know_ I knew that...It-It's just some of the stuff I've been told in the last few days...Some stuff sticks around and some other stuff just goes in one ear and out the other." He paused to tap his temple with a flesh finger, and gave a cynical smile and laugh. "It's a fuckin' _mess_ up there."

Tony couldn't deny that it was a little amusing to see him try to lighten the mood about something as serious as his situation.

"If I can ask..." Bucky began to ask, making Tony turn back to the car. "When-When did he die? Howard, I mean...And-And your momma... _Maria_."

"1991," Tony said, his voice muffled from his position under the car's hood. Bucky made a small 'Hm' sound. Once out from under the hood, Tony heard the soldier mumbling under his breath. It sounded like he was counting. "25."

"What?" Bucky asked, abruptly losing count and looking at the grease-smudged genius.

"Its 2016 now. They died in '91...25 years ago," Tony explained slowly. Not slow enough to be condescending, but slow enough for Bucky to, hopefully, absorb it.

Bucky nodded, his eyes flitting around the garage. "...Thanks...I-I'm sorry...For your loss...It's a bit late, but..." He mumbled, his eyes finally settling on staring blankly out the open garage door.

Realizing he'd lost the soldier, Tony sighed and returned to the car that was half-taken apart. It was a good ten minutes later that Bucky spoke again. It startled Tony a little; he thought the guy left already.

"Hey, do you know if your dad ever fixed up the house I got for Anna?"

"You bought Anna a _house_?" Tony blurted out, then raised a brow skeptically.

"Yeah...Pretty sure I did," Bucky said with a shrug. He raised his left hand to scratch the back of his neck, but quickly put it back down before he could bruise himself again. He scratched the back of his neck with his right hand instead. "A place upstate...Upstate New York, I mean...Wasn't too far from Lake Ontario, I think."

"Huh," Tony said, genuinely surprised that a soldier in the army, stationed overseas seventy-some years ago could actually buy a house back in the US. Then, he shook his head. "I don't remember him having any projects around Lake Ontario. But it could'a been done before I was born."

"It was white," Bucky said, leaning on the work table again. He was somewhat lost in thought as he tried to recall more details about the event. "Well, it was painted white at some point...It was old when I bought it, God knows the place is ancient now."

Tony paid closer attention now. He didn't know what about this particular topic caught his interest, but he just went with it.

"It came with a lot of land...At least five acres," Bucky recalled, furrowing his brow as he scraped the back of his mind for the remaining details. He could remember basic events alright, but the finer points, what he used to pride himself in remembering, had to be painfully picked out of the white noise that shrouded his brain one by one. "It had a big red barn, I think. A barn for sure, can't remember if it was red, or if I thought we should have painted it red once we got there...Big pastures for animals, and a place for chickens 'er something..."

Bucky sighed, and began to wander back into the villa. He didn't say goodbye to genius 'cause he honestly didn't believe that he was still listening. Turns out that he _was_ still listening, and was a little offended that the soldier just left.

"Bye sergeant," Tony said in a loud, sarcastic voice.

The response he got was distracted, and made him frown.

Hearing the annoyed tone behind him, Bucky gave a half-sighed response on his way back to Anna to ask what animal he had been so excited to have in that big red barn.

"See 'ya later, Howard."

* * *

It was dusk, and the two lovers were lazily embracing.

That being said, there were technically six lovers at the villa.

Pietro and Emilia planned to sleep outside on the beach. They threw up one of the pointless, shear tents they had slept in during their time with Emilia's nomadic troupe. They were out there primarily because they shared a wall with Ellie, and the brunette told them that if she had to endure one more night of persistent thumping and other noises she would set the Valkyrie on them (she had no shame and was actually known for entering rooms with closed doors while couples were engaging in private activities to ask mundane questions). Ellie herself was taking a walk with Steve.

There was a small, quaint little village not far from Jamie's villa. Steve suggested that they walk there together and possibly stop for something to eat at one of the small cafes or little stands. Her hand was in the crook of his arm, and he still hadn't shaved. Due to the warm, slightly humid climate, Ellie had been unable to wear long sleeves to hide the array of scars that ran up her arms. She could feel a soft tingle where the raised scars brushed against Steve's skin, as he was clad in a short-sleeved t-shirt. The couple would have blushed wildly and denied everything if they were called 'lovers,' but everyone in the villa knew they were headed down that path. Steve was old fashioned (more so than almost any other human being), and Ellie, who had been bottling up her pain and damage for almost thirty years, was opening up to the blond captain. Their level of physical contact had remained the same, save for her holding his arm, opposed to Emilia and Pietro, who fought physically to the point of pinning each other to the floor, and enjoyed expressing their affection in an equal physical manner. Steve and Ellie were on Cloud 9 simply as they walked close to one another on their way to an ice cream shop. On their way back, Steve would end up pressing a kiss to Ellie's cheek.

The third and final pair of lovers was the most damaged and endearing pair; Bucky Barnes and Anna Brightman. They were on the terrace just outside Anna's bedroom. Anna perched on the wide carved stone border, legs dangling off the side in the air two stories above the ground. Bucky was behind her, leaning on the border with an arm around Anna's waist as she leaned back on him. They were in the light-weight clothing Jamie provided for them, which the cool sea breeze ruffled, along with their hair.

"Hmm..." Anna sighed, allowing her eyes to close. She smiled softly when the ends of Bucky's long hair tickled her cheek. "You need a haircut, soldier."

"I know," Bucky sighed, looking down at Anna's head on his right side. "Not gonna lie, it's growin' on me, though."

Anna's nose wrinkled up a little. "I like you better with short hair."

"And I like you better when you don't _straighten_ your hair," Bucky shot back, bringing his left hand up to tug gently on a chunk of Anna's straight hair.

"Fine, keep your hillbilly hair," Anna pouted, raising a glass of red wine to her lips. Bucky had one too, but he would always let go of Anna's waist before taking a drink. The first glass Anna had given him, he grabbed it with his left hand on instinct and broke it. She assured him that it was fine, and she had no doubt that he could hold the glass in his metal hand, but he didn't do it again. He didn't like the sound his vibranium fingers made on the crystal stem of the glass anyway; on the same note, he didn't like wine that much anyway, he was a beer guy.

"I'll at least trim it...Don't want it hangin' down past my shoulders," Bucky reasoned. "Before the war, my hair was a little longer...Had to have the military cut, you know?"

"I know," Anna sighed, nuzzling her cheek to Bucky's chest, the rhythmic sound of his breathing calmed her. "But I have a soft spot for your military hair."

"And _I_ have a soft spot for your curls," Bucky responded, and Anna could hear the smirk in his voice. "Why'd you stark gettin' rid of them? Kara said you started ironing it when you came back after the war."

"I got rid of them 'cause you had a soft spot for them," Anna admitted softly, just a sigh, as she took another drink of wine. "Each time I looked in a mirror, I thought'a you...Keep in mind, I thought you were dead at the time."

Anna kept her wine glass in one hand, and brought her other hand up to feel her beau's dog tags beneath his shirt. "Figured if I was wearin' these everyday like I was I'd think if you enough...Curls weren't in style in the fifties anyway."

"Your corkscrew curls are always in style, darlin,'" Bucky said softly, smiling. "They're classic."

She dropped her hand from his tags, and brought it back to hold her wine glass like her other hand. "Steve told me that you asked him some questions today."

Bucky looked down at his metal hand, put in a loose fist along the stone, his metal knuckles against the rock worn smooth by time. He cynically thought that when he was in the service, it was probably rough. "Yeah...Yeah, I asked him if he knew anythin' about me before I was me again."

Anna nodded; this wasn't new information to her. "You wanna know about him?" She got a slow nod in response.

"For starters, he has a name," Anna began, feeling oddly protective of the personality lingering in the back of Bucky's head. "James."

"You called him James?" Bucky asked, surprised and a little miffed; he didn't much like his given name.

"He called himself that too," Anna said with a shrug. "No last name...Just James."

"What was he like?" Bucky asked curiously.

"Can't really say," Anna said honestly. "He didn't really have a personality...Just instincts, feelings and actions.

"James was the one that did all the bad things, the one HYDRA squeezed the humanity out of. He was so broken, so damaged, that he didn't really have the capacity for a personality. He was a person, though. A real, flesh and blood person...It took a while for him to believe that...HYDRA made him a soldier that didn't even have the urge to _eat_ ," Anna had to pause, reminding herself to choose her words carefully. "He killed people in front of me, more than once, and wasn't kind about it either. He was good at that, I guess, since it's what HYDRA built him to do. But, he was such a gentle soul."

Bucky watched Anna as she spoke. She seemed almost wistful, and clearly sad.

"It took weeks before he would let me touch him unless absolutely necessary. Months before he would touch me...We were runin' around the world together for more than a year, and even at the very end, he'd shake when he touched me," Anna felt her lips frown a little. "James, no matter how many times I told him different, thought I was a little glass bird...That I always needed to be protected and hardly touched."

"I think'a you that way too, sometimes, you know?" Bucky put in softly, resting his cheek on Anna's head. "Like a little glass bird."

"I know," Anna said with a hint of a smile. "That was just one of the many little things that told me you were in there somewhere."

Bucky also gave a small smile, but his was marred by a nagging question clear in his eyes and it troubled his girl.

"I don't wanna tell you too much," she sighed, her smile turning into a frown. "I know you're mind is tough as all Hell, but I don't wanna force the two of you together before you're able to handle it."

He nodded with quick, short little movements. "Yeah, yeah I know..."

"What's wrong?" Anna asked bluntly.

"The way you talk about him...James," Bucky mumbled, feeling embarrassed and downright childish.

"Bucky, honey, you're talkin' like you did just before you told me I'm sexy when I'm mad," Anna teased softly, taking a drink of wine. She pouted when Bucky removed his arm from around her waist, and picked up his own wine glass. Instead of sipping it like Anna, Bucky threw the whole glass back and emptied the glass in just a few swallows. He made a face as he put the glass down. "That's a vintage cabernet, it's made to be _sipped_."

"Never really liked wine," Bucky responded, swallowing to try to get the taste out of his mouth faster. "Think Jamie has any whisky?"

"I think Jamie has one of the best alcohol collections in the continent," Anna said honestly.

"Don't think I'm stupid for what I'm gonna say," Bucky mumbled, pressing his face into Anna's neck.

"I've never thought you're stupid," Anna reminded him, bringing a hand up to cradle the back of Bucky's head. "You've had stupid moments, but you're not a stupid person."

"You and, er, _James_ ," Bucky began. "Were you two...?"

"We slept in the same bed pretty often towards the end," Anna said, picking up on what Bucky was asking. She spoke casually, which unnerved Bucky to no end. "Cuddled a lot, most of it done by me. He just liked to keep me close and warm. We did have a pretty intense makeout. A few, actually."

When Bucky said nothing, Anna turned her head to look at him. When she saw his unhappy face, she too frowned. "You know, you really have no reason to make that little crease between your brows," she told him, rubbing her thumb over the crease she spoke of.

"I know I know I know...He's me, I'm him, you're you and I have no reason to not be ok with it," Bucky groaned, hiding his face in his girls neck. "Say something sweet to make me feel better."

Anna grinned, and finished up the wine in her glass. "How 'bout I do something to make you feel better instead?"

"Even better," Bucky mumbled, still embarrassed, into Anna's neck.

"You gotta promise me sumthin' first," she added, turning and forcing Bucky to look at her. "You're gonna promise me that you're not gonna treat me like a little glass bird, and you're not gonna do anything but have a nice time with me."

"Promise."

"I want you to pinky swear," Anna added, holding up her pinky finger.

Slowly, to show her that he was really going to try, Bucky brought his metal hand up, and gingerly wrapped his metal pinky around Anna's flesh one.

Anna smiled, and took both of Bucky's hands. She walked backwards and led Bucky back into her bedroom. The door was already shut and locked, to keep anyone from disturbing them as they sat on the terrace.

"Do you remember that time I drank a bit too much with Kiku and Kara?" Anna asked, slipping off her sandals as she walked across the terrace. Bucky was already barefoot, or he would have done the same.

He couldn't help but grin boyishly at the memory. _That_ memory was _crystal clear_. Anna came back to their apartment half drunk, carrying her stockings and shoes, and with her shirt untucked from her skirt. She was giggling like mad as she came through the door, but stopped immediately when she set eyes on Bucky. She leaned against the door and locked it, then threw her shoes and stockings to the side before running to her beau. He thought she was gonna hug him or something, but what she did instead was _so much better_. She ran at him full force and practically pounced on him, jumping up and wrapping her legs around his waist. Her arms locked around his neck and she smashed her mouth to his. Bucky ended up falling backwards on the bed, and after Anna assured Bucky she wasn't drunk and he wasn't taking advantage of her, they had some of the best sex they ever had.

"Yeah, why?" Bucky asked, more than a little confused.

"Aw, I never thought that I'd live to see the day where Bucky Barnes was innocent in the bedroom," Anna teased, stopping now that they were inside the villa walls.

Bucky's brows furrowed. "What do you-"

He didn't get to finish the question, because Anna, just like when she was half drunk, she pounced on Bucky.

Instead of falling onto the bed, Bucky ended up stumbling back from Anna's sudden weight thrown at him. His back hit the wall hard, and a picture went crooked on the hanger. Anna had her hands locked in Bucky's long hair, fisting it through her fingers and idly thinking that his long hair was kinda nice; it was easy to keep his mouth on hers when she had something to grab onto.

Bucky hadn't been in a completely clear state of mind since he woke up in the bed at Jamie's, and he knew Anna was taking advantage of that, and he was gonna let her. Having her so close and pressed to the length of his body was one thing, but the way Anna was tugging on his hair and dominating the kiss was enough to make his eyes roll back in his head.

"Thought I told you I'm not a _fucking_ glass bird, Barnes," Anna mumbled against her beau's lips, frustrated that his hands were only resting on her hips. Bucky wasn't sure what Anna did next, but she moved her body in such a way that it cut his self control was cut like a stick of butter with a hot knife.

A low groan built up in Bucky's chest, and his arms wound around Anna's slim body, bringing her even closer. She also let out a happy hum when he finally responded how she wanted. Putting her foot flat on the wall, Anna pushed both of them off the wall, and Bucky let out a surprised little sound. They landed hard on the bed, with Anna on the bottom this time, giggling at his reaction.

"You know, Kara said we could get pretty loud back at the bunker," the blonde said between kisses. One of her hands left his dark hair, and began fighting the buttons on his shirt. "These walls are _soundproof_."

" _Really?_ " Bucky asked, smirking as he kissed down her neck, sucking near her shoulder. One hand held her hair, the other was sliding down her body, eventually cupping her butt clad in shorts that Bucky _really_ enjoyed.

Anna responded by flipping them over so she straddled Bucky's torso. Frustrated by the buttons on his shirt, she huffed, grabbed the collar and yanked it in two different directions.

Looking up at Anna, with mussed hair, kissed-bruised lips, and her shirt skewed so it showed the strap of her swimsuit, Bucky smiled. "You know, seventy years changed you," he commented, stunned he was able to think coherently with Anna's hands trailing over his chest. "You're...You're so much more confident."

"Hey, you've changed too," Anna said with a smile, leaning down to press a softer kiss to Bucky's lips.

"I know," Bucky responded, then glanced down at his torso, meaning to get a glimpse of his silver arm. He frowned; he could'a _sworn_ he had a little hair on his chest. "Thought I had-"

"I'm sure you still got whatever it is," Anna cut him off, then caught him in a passionate, hair grabbing kiss. Once they needed to breathe, the pair parted and pressed their foreheads together, breathing heavily.

Bucky's flesh hand was knotted in Anna's hair, and his metal one was moving up and down the side of Anna's body, pausing and squeezing in all the right places. The only man in the world that could be brainwashed by HYDRA while still retaining the right places to squeeze his gal while she was on top of him, was _James Buchanan Barnes_. So much had changed in the world, but Anna was the same. She was soft in the same places, sighed with the same places were touched, and the sheer familiarity of her body was more arousing than anything else Bucky could think of.

"How 'bout we make up for lost time, soldier?" Anna breathed against Bucky's mouth, before trailing her lips down his chin, along his jaw, to the place right behind his ear that made him let out an unfamiliar but oddly fitting growl.

He hissed through his teeth to gain enough control to let out a sentence that wasn't far too filthy for Anna to hear. Bucky took Anna's face in both hand, metal and flesh, and kissed her. He pinched his eyes shut and tried to put as much emotion as he could behind it. He tried to put all his love, devotion, passion-everything, in the kiss.

"I love you, Glow," Bucky breathed out, looking up at Anna's whisky brown eyes. The light of the setting sun illuminated her hair, so it looked like liquid gold. The soft features of her face caught the light just so, and her eyelashes did that thing where they cast shadows down her cheeks.

Anna smiled softly, and flipped them over yet again. Bucky made a mental note to ask her how she did that so easily; he was easily twice her size, but she did it with such ease. Once Anna was settled on her back, hair splayed out like rays of sun around her head, she reached up and combed Bucky's hair back so she could see his face.

"Bucky Barnes," she whispered, looping two fingers through his dog tags.

" _I love you._ "


	49. Chapter 49: Lapushka

Omniscient POV

It was early in the morning and Bucky sat alone in the dim kitchen. His elbow was braced on the counter, and his chin sat in his hand. His other hand, his right hand, idly spun the spoon in his bowl of oatmeal. He'd drowned the bowl of hot cereal in milk and brown sugar, so it hardly looked like oatmeal anymore.

"Penny for 'ya thoughts," a voice rough with age said, cutting through the silence. Bucky hadn't flinched, jumped, or even showed any physical signs of surprise when Jamie spoke; he'd heard the old man walking down the hall. He was still trying to get used to his hearing that had more than doubled in accuracy and perception.

"Doubt they're worth that much," Bucky mumbled, not looking away from his breakfast.

"You've seen a lot'a things, Sargent Barnes," Jamie chuckled, easing himself into a plush chair by the large windows in the kitchen; he drank his coffee there every morning. "I'd bet your thoughts are worth millions."

The dark-haired man scoffed slightly. "Maybe they'd be worth a fraction of that if I had a prayer of keepin' them straight."

"No sane person has a fully functioning mind," Jamie told him, a knowing smirk in his face.

" _Really?_ " Bucky asked, his voice laced with doubt and sarcasm.

"Absolutely," the man by the window said, running an aged hand through his thinning gray and white hair. "You best listen to me, son. I'm a lot of things, but old and wise is at the top of the list."

"I think I'm older than you, Mr. Dean," Bucky finally countered after a minute or two of hard thinking. He glanced at the actor for confirmation.

"Keep tellin' yourself that, Sarge, and one day it just might be true," Jamie chuckled.

"No...No, it is true," Bucky responded with a small smile, and furrowed brows. He liked that Jamie had never shown any apprehension towards him and this allowed for playful teasing, but he was also a little annoyed that the mutant insisted on talking about his mental state like this. "I was born in 1916, and Anna told me you were born sometime in the thirties."

"True, true..." Jamie nodded. "But I have the experience of someone who was born in 1931 who lived through the decades until this very day."

"I don't wanna talk about it," Bucky blurted out quickly, focusing his steel gaze on the slowly turning spoon over his bowl. He didn't like talking about what HYDRA did to him without Anna next to him.

"Oh, well, neither do I," Jamie said in a light, but serious voice. He chuckled once. "I'm just pointing out that you may have been born fifteen years before me, but your mind isn't a day over twenty-something."

Bucky's brow furrowed. "What'd'ya mean?" He finally asked, shoving a spoonful of the soupy, cold oatmeal in his mouth.

"I mean," Jamie began to explain in a slow, calm voice. "That you're trying to think your age, when you don't have the experience to do that, Sarge. You have the mind of a guy in his twenties who spent the last few years of his life in the Army, and while I respect that, it's not the most constructive environment for a boy's development."

"I wasn't a boy when I went over there," Bucky suddenly said. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he recalled that he'd said this over and over to people many times. "I was twenty-five-years-old. If you wanna talk about boys, I went to basic training with a dozen guys who were hardly eighteen. A few guys even had their high school diplomas mailed to them at Camp Leigh since they enlisted before the ceremony. _They_ were boys."

"Somethin' I learned," Jamie sighed. "Just 'cause you're legal in the eyes of the law, doesn't mean you're not still a kid inside."

Bucky rolled his eyes, and in a move of weak defiance, shoved an overflowing spoonful of oatmeal in his mouth. After swallowing half of it, he spoke with food still in his mouth. "Well, what do I do, then?"

"Hell if I know," Jamie said through low chuckles without missing a beat. "Just 'cause I look like a prune with legs, don't mean I have _all_ the answers, boy."

Bucky smiled a little as he took another bite.

The kitchen was filled with comfortable silence, only broken when the coffeemaker suddenly turned on. Bucky was slightly startled by the sudden gargle and grind of the machine across the kitchen from him. His first thought was that it was on some kind of timer, and looked to Jamie for an explanation. The old man smiled wide, and shrugged slightly, while waving his hand in a dismissive, dramatic way. Bucky let out an amused breath through his nose as he realized what had happened; Jamie had turned on the coffeemaker from his seat by the windows. When they broke gazes, Jamie looked wistfully at the coffee maker. His body was weakening, but his mutation was just as strong as the day he discovered it. His glory days as star of the cinema screen were only enhanced by him using his little gift to woo whatever human had perked his interest at that time. The showmanship had long since left, as his body couldn't take it anymore. Then, the elaborate tricks he did for the children of the nearby village stopped; anything more than simply turning things on an off or changing a TV station took too much out of the old man. Now, his mutation was used for convenience, and that only made Jamie ornery.

When the coffee was finished and hot in the modern-looking pot, Jamie asked the younger-bodied man if he would mind bringing him a cup with two sugars and a splash of cream. Bucky wordlessly did what he was asked, and after searching the kitchen briefly for mugs, prepared Jamie's cup and poured one for himself as well, leaving it black. The soldier earned a thankful smile from the old man as he took the mug, making Bucky smile a little as well. When he turned back to the main kitchen Bucky was surprised to see a slim and deceptively-muscular woman dressed in black, which contrasted greatly with her dark, brilliant red hair.

"Oh."

The woman hardly spared Bucky a look when he let out his surprised little sound. She smirked slightly, and looked at Bucky with a sidelong glance. "I'm not invading your space, am I Sargent?"

"No!" Bucky said quickly, wanting to make sure the redhead knew that he was ok with her presence as long as she was. "No, uh, not at all."

He returned to his seat at the counter and his oatmeal. It had been cold for a long time, and had turned lumpy, but Bucky still ate it as he tried to recall the name of the redhead.

"Do you go by Natasha or Natalia?" Bucky abruptly asked. The redhead had opened the fridge and spent most of the time Bucky had been thinking rifling through it, but looked over her shoulder at him, with one hell'a'va poker face. "Anna told me your name was Natasha, but there's this little voice in my head that keeps callin' you Natalia."

The Russian spy took a bottle of water from the fridge, and closed the door. She leaned on the counter next to the large refrigerator, and cracked the plastic seal before taking a drink.

"Have I met you?" Bucky asked, curiously, frowning in thought. "You...You look familiar."

The redhead seemed to choose her words carefully "I have never met you in my life, Bucky Barnes."

"Well...What-What about the other guy in my head? James?"

She shrugged. "Briefly," was her only answer.

They stared each other down. Natasha was trying to gauge his reaction and keep herself stoic, while Bucky was trying to match a face with one he'd seen, or James had seen, or the Soldier had seen.

"I _know_ I know you," Bucky said with a firm nod.

"Steve had to remind you where you went to Basic Training yesterday," she responded. Her voice didn't have a hint of cruelty in it; it was more like a soft reminder as to how reliable his memory was.

"No, no, I know you," the metal-armed man said with a firm nod. "I never forget a pretty face."

That threw Natasha for a moment.

In her brief stupor, Bucky mumbled a good-bye to Jamie, then herself. He left the kitchen quickly and dropped his empty bowl in the sink.

* * *

Over the last few weeks, Bucky found that a long, hard work out in the sophisticated gym Jamie had was one way to nudge his memory along.

Anna had joined him for a while; she wanted to spar. They ended up lazily on the mats, tangled up with each other and kissing.

Steve and Sam stopped in as well, and that had things flowing back left and right. It reminded him of his time in the Army. Just a bunch of guys, working out, joking around and trying to outdo each other.

But that was all hours ago. Bucky was alone in the gym. Anna offered to sit on the stacked mats and read or look through files, keeping him company while he worked out, but he shyly asked for some time alone. He was currently on his back, benchpressing a weight over his chest. He'd lost track of how much weight was on the barbell now; he'd do fifty reps, and if he could take it, he'd add fifty more pounds. There had to be over four-hundred and fifty-pounds on the steel bar now.

His eyes were closed as he did the repetitive motion of pushing the weight up and down. The muscles in his right arm were aching, but he had no intention of stopping. Around the tenth rep, they began to burn instead of ache, but he still didn't stop. The reasoning behind him keeping his eyes closed was concentration; not about the barbell, but about the memories.

A low grunt came through his teeth as a prickle of pain shot down his arm, and his eyes pinched tighter in slight pain. He quickly regained his composure as he heard someone approach, and opened his eyes as he waited for the person to come into view. Anna's voice in his ears made him smile, even though he didn't know what she was saying; she wasn't speaking English.

The blonde passed the wide doorway to the gym with a phone pressed to her cheek, and a half-eaten apple in her hand as she spouted off rapid Russian. They met eyes, and exchanged smiles. Anna looked away when she had to respond, and shot Bucky another smile as she walked away.

Not thinking much of it, Bucky closed his eyes again, and went back to counting his reps. Oddly, his mind had zeroed in on the Russian words Anna had said. His Glow had told him that James knew countless languages, and they would slowly come back to him as he remembered more; Russian was one of the languages. Taking a break from painfully scraping the back of his skull for why he knew the redhead, Bucky tried his hand at Russian. Within a matter of seconds, what his mind told him was an English equivalent popped in his head.

 _Oh, just follow their orders._

Suddenly, James was overcome with so many things he accidently sent the barbell flying forward into the wall as he sat up. His breathing was shallow and rapid, and he began to sweat harder than he already was. Both his hands, flesh and metal, knotted in his hair and grabbed at his head as his eyes pinched shut. The numbing fear and debilitating pressure felt on his brain pushed out any thoughts of remembering the redhead; he just wanted it to stop.

Anna told him his memories might come back in different ways. They might slip back into place without incident, they might come back as dreams, or he could have a mild episode. The episodes would most likely come from his mind trying desperately to repress memories that he was fighting to recall. They could pass quickly, or they could make him pass out.

Bucky was fairly sure he passed out, but his head hurt so bad he couldn't tell.

* * *

" _Just follow your orders."_

 _The words were spoken in Russian, and very quietly._

 _There were eleven men tied to chairs, ten of them were struggling and had bags over their heads._

 _The man at the far left of the row was the same as all the others from the neck down; wrists and ankles tied to the chair's arms and legs, and a rope around the neck to keep their head in place. The only difference was that the bag was removed from his head, and the gag had been removed from his mouth to hang around his neck. The man's head was lolled limply against the rope holding his head in place, and a single bloody hole was dead-center between his eyes._

 _He was dead._

 _The Winter Soldier was standing in front of the man second from the left, feet shoulder-width apart and his hands clasped behind his back. The bag that had been over the head of the first man clasped in one fist. He was dressed for a mission; heavy boots and tactical pants, his left arm exposed in the leather and kevlar were holsters and clips for weapons, but the only weapon he held was a heavy pistol with eleven bullets, now ten, bullets._

 _There was someone standing next to the Winter Soldier._

 _She hardly came up to his waist, and was dressed drastically different than the soldier next to her. It was a very childlike and feminine outfit; a black pleated red skirt and a white blouse with long sleeves. A small emblem was embroidered on the pocket of the blouse, what appeared to be yellow wings in a V shape centered in a rectangle of dark red._

 _The girl, who couldn't have been more than seven, was dressed identically as the other nine girls who were lined up along the wall with the door. Five on one side of the door, and four on the other. They all also had dark red wool sweaters, but were instructed to hang them on hooks in the hallway outside the room. The girls wished they had been allowed to keep them on; it was cold enough in the room that they could see their breath._

" _Just follow your orders." The Winter Soldier said again, in Russian. This time, he looked down at the little girl. Her white shirt was pristine, except for a feint, grubby handprint on her right upper arm; no girl had volunteered to go first after his demonstration, so he'd grabbed a child at random and dragged her to where she stood now._

 _When she didn't move, the Soldier spared her a blank glance down to her. She was looking up at him as well. He had a clear view of her face._

 _Her copper hair was pulled back perfect and smooth. The hair was tied in a ponytail at the back of her head, and adorned with a black bow proportionate to the size, length, and volume of her ponytail. The other girls had a similar hairstyle; those with hair too short to be secured in a ponytail wore a ribbon as a headband, with a small bow over their right ear._

 _The little girl's face was a perfectly stoic mask of indifference, just like the others, and was absolutely devoid of color. There should have been pink rosy cheeks and a matching red nose from the temperature of the room, like the Winter Soldier, but her face was white as a sheet, like the others. With her face so pale, and the only light coming from a dim, flickering fluorescent bulb, her green eyes looked bigger and darker._

 _Her face was a startling stoic mask, but her eyes were wide and childlike. They darted between the Winter Soldier, the man tied to a chair one from the left, and the large mirror on the wall to their right._

 _The Soldier blinked down at the girl, and was well aware he was only supposed to give them their lesson and assist them to a degree, but he chose to ask a quite, gruff question._

" _What is your name?" He asked her, hardly moving his lips as he spoke._

 _She looked back to the row of men, and answered in a very quiet voice. "Natalia."_

" _Natalia," the Winter Soldier repeated gruffly. "They are waiting...Follow your orders."_

 _The little girl nodded shakily, and began to approach the man directly next to the dead one. Her black patent leather Mary Jane flats made soft tapping sounds as she walked across the concrete floor. The Winter Soldier behind her, hands remaining behind his back._

 _Natalia stopped in front of the man tied to the chair, struggling as best he could. She went to the right, and climbed the two cement steps next to the chair, allowing her to pull the bag from the man's head. He blinked furiously once it was removed, and his eyes were terrified. He met eyes with Natalia, and tried to speak through the gag._

 _The little girl stepped back to the floor, and handed the bag to the Soldier. He held it in the same fist as the other bag. Natalia then returned to the top step, and pulled the gag from the man's mouth. He took several deep breaths, and licked his bleeding lips. He began begging for his life before the little girl had her feet on the floor again. She stood beside the Winter Soldier, and watched as he took the large, silver gun from his thigh holster. He gripped it by the barrel, and held it out to her. She took it, and struggled with the weight for a split second before steadying her grip._

" _Just follow your orders," the Soldier said again, taking one step back._

 _Natalia swallowed, and nodded. She approached the line of white paint on the floor, her toes just nudging it. She looked up at the man, who had not stopped begging since his gag was removed. She raised the pistol, and aimed it at the man's head._

" _Hold your fire, Natalia," the Winter Soldier ordered the little girl softly. This was both a demonstration for the academy headmistress, and test for the students. If they could not kill a bound and begging man, they were useless._

 _Natalia kept the gun up and ready, the man's pleas bombarding her ears. When he began crying, the Soldier saw the redheaded little girl swallow a lump in her throat._

" _Kill him."_

 _Natalia only blinked._

" _Kill-"_

 _The second order hadn't even finished before Natalia pulled the trigger of the gun._

 _The man's head jerked back, then fell forward so his chin was towards his chest._

 _Natalia Romanov had completed her first kill._

 _The Winter Soldier passed Natalia, roughly taking the gun from her. He grabbed the man's hair and yanked his head back. The girl saw the man's tear stained face, smudged with grime. He was absolutely normal, but there was a hole between his brows with a lone trail of blood that went over his nose and down his cheek. It was a little closer to the left brow than the Soldier would have liked, but she completed her task with more than enough of accuracy._

 _The Soldier turned to her, and nodded. His face was stoic and hard, but Natalia knew it was a nod of approval._

 _Natalia stood only inches from the man's feet when she shot him, which meant she was sprayed with a spatter of blood. She nodded once, and finally saw how much blood was on her blouse. When she licked her lips, she tasted blood, and Natalia couldn't help but begin to rub her blouse and face furiously with her hands and cuffs to try to rid herself of blood. She and the other girls now knew why they were asked to remove their sweater._

 _The Winter Soldier hardly spared her a glance, and looked to the mirror. A small green bulb over the mirror flashed once, and he nodded. He sent Natalia back to the line, and grabbed the second girl._

 _Natalia's eyes never left the man she killed, and she couldn't stop trying to rub the, now dried blood from her face._

_-~0O0~-_

 _The next time the Winter Soldier saw Natalia was five years later. She had grown to a girl of twelve or thirteen, and wore more or less the same uniform._

 _There were only seven girls waiting, and eight men bound to chairs._

 _Natalia again went first, and repeated the process that had been done years before._

 _She removed the bag and gag from her victim, and stood behind the painted line. She took the gun from the Soldier, and aimed it at her man's head._

 _He begged and pleaded for his life like the man years before. The Winter Soldier watched curiously at Natalia's face; she closed her eyes for a moment, like she was afraid. She opened her eyes, and gave the man a soft smile of sympathy. He began begging, pleading, praising her for her mercy._

 _The sympathy quickly left her face and was replaced by a cold smirk._

 _Natalia pulled the trigger, killing the man._

 _She hit him dead center between the brows this time._

 _After calmly handing the gun back to the Soldier, she returned to her place in line, and calmly wiped the blood off her face with her hands. She wasn't bothered by the blood on her blouse._

 _The next girl stepped up._

_-~0O0~-_

 _The four remaining girls were graduating their program the last time the Winter Soldier saw the redhead. They were all in different clothes this time; the Soldier didn't know why, and didn't care enough to ask. He knew he wouldn't get an answer anyway._

 _Natalia went second to last this time, opposed to first. She needed no instruction, no guidance, no nothing._

 _She removed the bag over the bound man's head, handed it to the stoic Winter Soldier, and untied the gag. As stood in the designated spot, she took aim. Instead of looking where she was aiming, the redhead turned and looked directly into the mirror; to the people behind it._

 _The shot was fired. It was dead center between the man's eyes; the Winter Soldier himself couldn't do it any better._

 _As Natalia handed the gun back to the Soldier, she whispered something under her breath._

" _Thank you for training me," she breathed out in Russian, her lips hardly moving, and giving no other physical sign she spoke._

 _The Soldier said nothing, and didn't even look at her._

" _Get back in line," he finally rasped, nodding to the final girl to come forward._

* * *

He wasn't sure how he got there, but Bucky ended up in a corner of the gym, his left shoulder pressed into the corner as his body curled in on itself to form a ball on the floor. Both his hands gripped painfully on his hair, and pressed into his skull with strength Bucky didn't know his bones could withstand.

"An-...Anna!" Bucky called.

He _knew_ that redhead.

"Glow!" He tried.

The three memories his strenuous workout and meditating had brought forth opened a floodgate to a slew of horrific and bloody scenes that played out in Bucky's head like a sick movie.

"Anna!"

He'd been in Natalia's presence more that those three times, like she indicated in the last memory. As they made themselves known, Bucky felt sick.

" _Anna!_ " Bucky yelled as loud as he could, pinching his eyes shut. He bellowed out variants of his Glow's name between fits of intense pain and pressure in his head and gasps for air. There were some other voices, but he didn't pay them any mind. Anna was a person who could help him; a person who knew how to deal with him in a way that wouldn't result in himself or anybody else getting hurt. " _Anna! Anna! Anna!_ "

"I'm here!"

She sounded so far away.

" _Anna!_ "

"Hey, Bucky," she said, sounding out of breath, but closer. "Hey, baby, I'm right here honey. I'm right next to you, Bucky, sweetheart, open your eyes and look at me. See that I'm right next to you."

Still taking painful gasps for air, Bucky managed to pry his eyes open just enough to see Anna next to him on the floor. Her hair was damp and curling at the ends. She smelled like sea water, and wore what appeared to be a t-shirt a size too big, with water bleeding though parts of the material, darkening it in some places.

"A-...Anna," Bucky whimpered, looking away from her to pinch his eyes shut.

Said blonde looked over her shoulder at the small crowd of people hovering at the door to the gym.

"I got this under control," she said calmly, giving a firm nod.

"Annie, he was _freaking out_ -"

"I said I got this under control, Tony," Anna cut the billionaire off sharply, but her tone was still controlled and calm.

"You gotta let some of us stay down here," Sam said quickly; his sharp glare not allowing her to cut him off. He glanced at Steve when he finished his statement.

"I want all of you to leave this floor," Anna commanded them, using the same tone that made US Marines do her bidding. "It's to remain empty until I say otherwise."

Anna stared them down, until the cluster of concerned soldiers, mutants, and former S.H.I.E.L.D. agents dispersed. When the door to the basement floor closed, Anna turned her attention back to Bucky.

"Darlin'...Can you look at me?" She asked softly, trailing her fingertips over his right forearm, which was tense to the point of veins popping dangerously from his skin. The answer the shaggy-haired man gave was a slurred, mumbled one.

"Bucky, I need you to look at me," Anna said again, her voice calm, but persuasive enough so Bucky knew he didn't have an option.

" _Я не могу_ ," Bucky gasped out in Russian.

Anna furrowed his brows. She hadn't heard him speak anything but English in close to a month. She began to gently run her fingers through his hair in an effort to calm him. He'd said 'I can not,' so she responded with " _Почему нет?_ "; 'Why not?'

" _Я не могу. Я не могу. Я не могу_ ," Bucky began repeating over and over, his eyes pinched shut. He began rocking back and forth slightly, and tears slowly started to trickle down his cheeks.

"Bucky, _enough_!" Anna shouted about fifteen minutes later. It didn't feel good to yell at him like that, but sometimes a shock like that snapped him out of it; and it did. Bucky snapped up so he wasn't huddled in a ball anymore, and his breathing was heavy. Those cerulean blues of his were wide and seemed almost manic.

Anna grabbed his face, and forced him to look at her. "What happened? What did you remember?" She demanded in a stern, calm voice.

"I-I left her there," Bucky said in a quiet, terrified voice. "I-I _left her there_ …Left her there…Left her there…Left her-"

"Who did you leave, Bucky?" Anna asked, pulling her fingers through his sweaty hair. "Where did you leave them?"

"The-The girl with-with the r-r-red hair," Bucky whimpered out, leaning forward to rest his temple on his gal's collarbone. "I-I le- _left her there_."

Anna held him tightly, and rubbed her hands in soothing patterns on his back and neck. "Natasha, Bucky...Her name is Natasha."

" _Natalia_ ," Bucky insisted, clutching onto Anna tighter. "Her-Her name is Natalia...I-I know th-that..."

"Yes, she is named Natalia, but she likes to be called Natasha now," Anna confirmed quietly. She continued to hold him as he shook, and thought about what to say next. "Where did you leave Natas-... _Natalia_. Where did you leave Natalia, Bucky?"

" _Красная академия номер_ ," Bucky spat out in Russian. Anna closed her eyes at the name; she knew it well. The Red Room Academy.

"She-She was just a kid!" Bucky cried into Anna's swimsuit cover-up. "She-She was a kid that-that I taught how-how to _kill_! The-The things I taught her-...No-Nobody that young should know-know what I taught her!"

Anna continued to sooth Bucky on the floor as he cried and murmured in Russian. There was nothing else she could do until he calmed down, or could find it in himself to get over it just enough to swallow tears and listen to what Anna said.

* * *

Natasha was sitting on the patio of the luxurious villa, a book in one hand and a half-eaten apple in the other. Clint was on the patio with her, writing an email to his family.

"Ah!" Natasha yelped when she was grabbed out of her lounge chair and had two strong arms wrapped around her in a crushing hug. It took her a moment to realize it was Bucky who was holding onto her so tightly. He buried his face in her shoulder, mumbling over and over in Russian how sorry he was.

Natasha quickly waved Clint away, and hesitantly hugged Bucky back.

"Hey…It-It's alright…" She awkwardly tried to sooth the sobbing soldier.

"It-It's _not_ alright Natalia," Bucky choked out, holding her tighter. It was like he was trying to squeeze the murder right out of her.

"Remember what Anna told you?" She asked, still uncomfortably patting Bucky's back. "You need to stop blaming yourself for… _stuff_ , and find a healthy way to deal with it."

"I know," Bucky said, swallowing thickly. He finally leaned back and held Natasha by the tops of her shoulders. When he looked at her, he saw the little redheaded seven-year-old, not a skilled assassin.

Then he said something that Natasha never thought she would ever hear.

"I-I'm sorry for what I taught you…I'm-I'm so sorry for what they made you do with what I taught you," Bucky said earnestly, his eyes reddened from crying and voice full of empathy and sadness.

The redhead, who was the master of managing her emotions and keeping her expressions on a tight leash, felt a hot, acidic ball grow in her throat. She was going to cry. As much as Natasha tried to force a smile on her face or keep it stoic, she just _knew_ she was going to cry, and there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it.

That was the last thing she ever thought she would hear. People apologized for what she went through, and what was done to her countless times. But having a person she learned under while in the Red Room apologize; there was no way for her to prepare or plan for that.

A lone tear escaped her left eye, while the rest of her face remained stone.

Bucky gave a lone, wet laugh, and used his flesh hand to wipe it away. He then hugged her again. This time, Natasha's fingers wound tightly into the hem of Bucky's shirt. It was like that was all she would allow herself to do, and Bucky simply allowed her to do that.

"I know I need a lot'a help…My mind it a fuckin' mess, but-but I wanna help you too, Natalia," Bucky told her, holding her like he would a child; one hand between her shoulder blades and the other gently on the back of her head. Natasha allowed her forehead to rest on Bucky's chest, and had her eyes pinched tightly shut. He could hear her desperately struggling to keep her breathing even. "I-I'm gonna help you…Don't know how, but if I'm half as smart as my Glow says I am, I'll figure something out."

"Anna keeps tellin' me that I'm not alone…I think you need to hear that too, Natalia," Bucky said, squeezing her slightly. Natasha waited for him to say something else, and was surprised when he leaned back and put a hand under her chin to make her look at him. She frowned a little; the action made her feel like a _child_. Soft, tiny and weak, completely unable to control herself or defend herself.

" _Вы не одиноки, Lapushka,_ " Bucky said sincerely. He repeated it in English. "You are not alone, _Lapushka_."

The redhead frowned a little deeper at the nickname he used with her; _Lapushka_. It meant 'little paw,' 'small kitten' or 'puppy.' The term of affection was common within families, between siblings, or from an older person to a younger person.

She responded by silently putting her forehead back on Bucky's chest, and wrapping her arms around him in a timid, child-like hug.

The dark-haired man hugged her tightly, as if she was still the child holding the heavy gun.

From inside the villa, on the second floor, Anna and Clint here using their expert spy skills to watch the two Russian trained assassins.

"Think this will be good for them?" Barton asked, glancing at Anna. She knew he was a little more worried about Natasha's wellbeing that Bucky's, and she would expect nothing less.

"Bucky blames himself for a lot, and can do almost nothing to change it," Anna explained softly. "He can actually do something with Natasha…Help her, you know?"

Her brown eyes finally left her beau and best friend to look at the archer. "And I know how much you care about Nat, but you gotta admit," she paused and smiled. "She's not the most stable person."

Clint chuckled once, and shook his head, looking back down at the embracing pair.

"They need this…I really think they both need this," Anna said softly.

"Will it help either of them?" Barton asked idly. Just because someone needed to do something, didn't mean that it would do any good.

"Will my ninety-odd-year-old, brainwashed-recoveree, sniper boyfriend's attempts to help one of the world's most deadly assassins who's been breed to kill since kindergarten help either of them?" Anna sighed in a slightly teasing tone, then glanced at the archer again.

"This is completely uncharted territory, Clint," she continued. "All we can do is help where we can and hope for the best."

* * *

 ** _Preview of what's to come..._**

* * *

 _ **4:08 am**_

 _Anna jolted out of bed when her cellphone rang. She grabbed it from the nightstand and pressed it to her ear._

 _"Hello?" She rasped sleepily into the device, raking her hair back with her fingers as she sat up properly in bed._

 _Bucky stirred next to her, and was just conscious enough to hear what she was saying._

 _"Hey Jimmy, what's-?...What? When? Is-Is she alright?" She paused for a longer amount of time. "Did you mention my name?...Well, what did the doctor's say?...I'm not in the country, Jim, it's gonna take a little while for me to get there…I don't know what TJ has told you, but I'm in a bit of a precarious situation right now…Well, your crappy inter-family communication methods and skills are something you need to work on without me, 'cause I'm not always around to fix things…I'm going to leave as soon as I can, alright? I don't care what she says, I'm going to come see her…Well tell her tough coconuts."_

 _There was another longer pause, and Anna took the opportunity to glance at Bucky, who rolled over and had his cheek pressed to her bare thigh. "Who's callin' this early, Glow?" He mumbled sleepily. Anna, still listening to the man on the phone, put a hand in Bucky's hair and gently combed the thick dark locks in an effort to lull him back to sleep._

 _"Uh-Huh, I'm still comin', Jim," she said, looking away from the half-asleep soldier on her leg. They discussed some travel details, and just before she hung up, Anna spoke an errant thought that had been bouncing around in her head._

 _"Hey, think she'd mind if I brought a few guests with me? I know a couple of guys who would just love to meet her, and they've never been to Hawaii either."_

 _They hung up soon after, and Anna gently shook Bucky awake. "Hey, open those cerulean blues for me, sweetheart."_

 _"What?" Bucky croaked, opening his eyes lazily. They took a moment to focus on Anna's face in the dark. He could probably have seen her better if he had even a fraction of the heightened senses Anna told him he had, but it was **the middle of the night**._

 _She asked him a question that made him snap fully awake and alert._

 _"You still wanna know the lady your sister turned out to be?"_

* * *

 **Hey there cupcakes!**

 **Ugh, I haven't posted in FOREVER. In my defense, I did just finish my first semester of college and NMU, and I had my ass thoroughly kicked my the classes I took. Hopefully, next semester will be better. But I have a whole six weeks before the winter semester even starts! Yay! I hope to get SO MUCH WRITING DONE!**

 **Just a quick thing; I know that in the comics, the Winter Soldier and Natasha have, like, a thing, and I just wanted to say that it's not going to be like that in this story at all. Bucky feels responsible for Natasha as if she were his little sister. It will all become clearer as the story progresses, I think. Also, sorry if Ms. Romanoff seemed a little OOC. Its just, well, in the MCU Natasha seems so stoic and controlled all the time (to me at least) and I wanted to show that the Red Room stuff she went through as a kid has had a major impact on her. I wanted her to express a little emotion, you know? And there's the ultimate fanfiction rule; my story, my rules! ;)**

 **Anyhoo, review for fasted update! I hope the preview is enough incentive for you...**

 **I love you all to crumbs, my cupcakes!**

 **~Christianne**


	50. Chapter 50: God Bless America

**Here's the next chapter!**

 **To my real life friend named Anna ~ Sorry it took me all day!**

 **To my buddy Jessica ~ LET ME KNOW WHEN YOU GET HERE!**

 **Alos, about the ending of this chapter; I know it might not be how the US military really works, but I like it and I don't wanna change it. So...Yeah...**

 **A few reviews might make the next chapter come a little sooner! ;)**

 **Enjoy the chapter my cupcakes! Love you all to crumbs!**

 **~Christianne**

* * *

Anna POV

I gave TJ a final squeeze, then took his head in my hands. I got up on my tiptoes and pulled his head down to press a kiss to his shaggy-haired head. "You call me when you get there, alright? Not when you get to your granddad's house, when you _land_ , got that?"

"Yeah yeah yeah," TJ groaned, rolling his eyes. He was smiling, though. "Don't worry so much. _I_ made my alias and papers-you and I both know there's no one better."

With that, TJ gave my hand a final squeeze and left Jamie's villa.

It had been four days since Jimmy called me with news of Rebecca's heart attack. As much as I wanted to just pick up and get on a plane to see her, there were things that needed to be done before I left Spain. TJ, on the other hand, could have left days ago; I _wanted_ him to leave days ago. But he had that Barnes' stubborn streak, and only left after he created everybody new aliases and clean papers. I easily could have made him go, but he was right. There simply wasn't anyone better.

TJ was the most recent to leave the villa. Clint had returned to his family three days ago (TJ made his papers first, which everyone thought made sense). Emilia and Pietro had said their goodbyes and left on foot with their backpacks two days ago; their linked hands swung in the air as they walked leisurely away from the villa, and melted into the cheerful crowd of the village. Vision, Wanda, Sam and Rhodey had left yesterday for the Avenger's base in New York. It was only Tony, Steve, Ellie, Kara, Bucky, myself and Jamie left in the villa, and all but the technopath would be gone within 36 hours.

I shut the door behind the tech, and began making my way back to Bucky. He was in the living room last time I saw him; there was a documentary on the Korean War on the History Channel that had completely grabbed his attention. I walked past the living room, and saw him on the edge of his seat on the sofa.

"You know, I think there might be a few snip-its that S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't scrub before they turned this footage over from this war," I said, pausing to lean my hip on the doorway, a small smile on my face. "If you look closely, you may just see me runnin' around in the back...I'm the gal with a M1 Garand slung over her shoulder."

Bucky turned to look at me with shock in the beginning, but it quickly turned into a playful smile. He was no doubt smiling at my outfit. He hated how some things had changed over the years, but Bucky Barnes was _certainly_ not upset how the clothes women wore changed. To deal with the heat, I donned a light weight cotton sundress. The little number was pale blue, and stopped inches above my knees. It was also slim fitting around my butt, waist, and chest. It was more than enough to make him grin.

"Really?" Bucky asked, slinging his arm over the back of the sofa.

"Then again...S.H.I.E.L.D. does a pretty good job at protecting its assets..." I trailed off cryptically, taking a few steps into the room. We continued to stare at each other with matching smirks, waiting for the other one to break first. It made my stomach flutter with excitement when he looked away first, slightly bashful.

Giggling, I gracefully pranced around to sit on the sofa. Bucky pouted for a moment when he saw how far away I was, but he didn't seem to mind when I laid down and used his thigh as a pillow. He chuckled once, and put his heavy flesh hand on my shoulder, rubbing my bare skin with his thumb. I wiggled around, trying to get comfortable, and ended up looking up at Bucky with a frown on my face.

"What?" He asked, almost laughing.

"You're not as squishy as you used to be," I complained, trying to get comfortable with my leg on his muscular thigh.

"Hey, I was never _squishy_ , darling,'" Bucky pointed out with a smug grin. "Yeah, back in the day I was no Steve, but I wasn't soft in the middle!"

"No, not in the middle," I admitted, a smile forming on my face as I turned towards the documentary still playing. "Just a little on the sides."

"I was not!" Bucky shot back, laughing.

The sound still made my heart twist around; after not hearing it for decades, the wonderful sound was better than music to my ears.

"Yes you were!" I insisted, grinning. "Right about _here_ —" I said, leaning over to pinch his hip. There used to be just a little untoned flesh there, but it was taunt and firm now. "—you had a little sumthin'."

He made a little sound, and lightly smacked my hand away from his hip. "Oh leave me alone, will 'ya?...'Sides, I thought gals liked a guy who was strong 'n stuff."

"Since when do you loop me in with 'gals'?" I asked in response.

"Just answer the question, Glow," Bucky sighed, trying to sound annoyed, but I could hear the smile in his voice. He must have missed our banter just like I did.

"Yeah," I sighed, settling down against him again. "Yeah, I guess we like it when guys keep in shape. I mean, it doesn't make them _less_ attractive."

We slowly lapsed into silence; Bucky watching the documentary intently, and me lazily listening to the scratchy sounds of poorly recorded gunshots as my eyes drifted shut.

The sounds of Bucky's breathing and the circular movements of his thumb on my arm lulled me to sleep.

* * *

It was dark when I opened my eyes again.

Bucky must have carried me to our room, because I was in my bed, and there was a sturdy, firm chest pressed to my back. I let out a slow exhale, and snuggled back into Bucky. His flesh hand slid up my back and came to rest heavily over the curve of my hip. Eventually, his thumb began to move soothingly against my hip, clad in only the thin material of my dress.

It didn't take too long before my dress rode up from the movements of his thumb, and it touched my bare skin.

My eyes had since drifted shut again, but my face nonetheless wrinkled up into a pout. "Good _God_ Bucky!..." I groaned, my voice low and a little raspy from sleep. "Your hand is really cold…I bet the left one is warmer…"

The only response I got was a low, sleepy chuckle.

"Will you get your chilly paw off my hip now, Sarge?" I continued to pout, nuzzling my face back into my pillow. "I wanna sleep more."

"Your wish is my command, my dear Annabelle."

My eyes opened as wide as they could, and my heart began to beat hard and fast in my chest.

A low, amused chuckle came from the body behind me. "It truly fascinates me…" he trailed off, his cold fingers tracing shapes through my dress, slowly crawling up my side until he got to my shoulder. I jumped slightly when his fingers came in contact with my skin. "…The way you react to me, my pet, is one of the most amazing things I have seen. I have been traversing the universe for centuries, I have been to every realm, and seen the best they have to offer, yet you, a mere mortal woman, have managed to not only catch my attention, but to hold it tight for year and years and years…"

"This-This isn't real," I breathed out, focusing on a small crack in the plaster around the doors leading to the terrace. "This-This is a dream. This is a dream, and-and _you're not really here_."

"Oh, my dear sweet pet, did I not tell you that I would be with you always?" His smooth voice chuckled in my ear. Unlike a human, his breath was cold against the skin of my neck, making me shudder again. "Did I not vow to you that I would protect you from all who seek ill upon you?"

"This is a nightmare," I said, pinching my eyes shut as another shudder passed through me; his ice cold hand paused in its pattern making to grasp my upper arm and give it an affectionate squeeze.

"Don't you understand, my queen?" The man behind me asked. He shifted in his place behind me; I could feel the frigid length of his torso pressing against my back. "So long as I claim you mine, you have nothing to fear…Your _nightmares_ have no basis in reality, for I will vanquish any who dares defy your actions or motives."

The hand that was moving up and down my arm lifted from my skin, and I had a brief second of relief; the warm Spanish hair almost stung on the spot he'd chosen to keep his hand. But not a second later, the breath was knocked out of me when he brazenly put his splayed hand against my stomach and pulled me even closer. A gasp left my mouth through trembling lips, and my eyes began to water as they stared unblinking at the tiny crack in the wall.

"I will never let anything happen to you, my love." This time I made a sound as I shuddered, as his lips were pressed to my ear as he spoke. I could feel every cool breath he took, and I flinched at each one.

"But I simply must know…You have encountered monsters of a worst kind than I on Midgard, and cut them down like wheat at the harvest…Evil, diabolical men with evil, diabolical minds to rival my own have stood before you, and you stood strong, with not a drop of fear in your blood or crossing your face…Why do I elicit such a response from you?

"Is it because I have seen every corner of your mind? Because I have, my darling Anna…I have seen into the deepest pits your own head has created to toss the most horrific memories into. I have dragged them all out and inspected each one. Oh, my dear, your work with bone and blood makes me proud—You are an artist with the knife and flesh, and just as deadly when cutting with words. You have lived so long, my pet, experienced more than any other mortal, and lived through it all. There is not a single human on your Earth that can begin to relate to the ache and intensity of outliving all those you once held dear…That is why you do not need a human man—no, my sweet, you need something greater.

"You require a _god_ in your life...A god who understands how your prolonged life has forever changed you. You are no longer the innocent, pure little creature you once were, living in a world yet untouched by battle. War has stained you, Anna. It has backend your edges and charred your mind…Your _Bucky_ , with his past valor and metallic, unnatural appendage cannot understand what you have experienced, given his luxurious past of being kept as a mindless battle slave…Like any other human, he will cringe and look at you with a look that will cut you to the core, my love…I do not want to see you crumble and shed tears for a pathetic mortal man who cannot look beyond your past, no matter how bathed in blood it is.

"As you should know by now, my precious Midgardian treasure, I have no qualms with your past bloodshed—Quite the contrary is true, I commend your past…I only wish that I could spare you the pain that will be cause from the inevitable."

"You're not real," I breathed out. During his monologue, I managed to get my breathing under control. "You…Loki of Asgard—You died before that ship hit Greenwich…You're _dead_."

He laughed softly in my ear, clearly just so amused that I know he died. "My dear, have you not been listening to what I have told you? Anything at all? How have my sweet words fallen on deaf ears?"

Suddenly, the hand splayed over my stomach reached up and grabbed my jaw in a tight grip. With it, he forced me to turn towards him, eventually ending up on my back staring up at him. Loki loomed over me, his eyes boring into mine. His grip was only just bordering on pain; it would surely leave bruises, but there was no real danger of my jaw cracking. As odd as it was to say, Loki looked better than the last time I really got a good look at him; not as sickly. His hair was longer now, and looked much more natural, almost sleep ruffled. It hung around his face like an inky black curtain, a few ringlets managed to hang on through the mess. He had me pinned down, one hand on my jaw, the other near my head, keeping his shirtless body propped up over me.

"Answer me, my pet," Loki asked in an unsettlingly calm voice. "Have you not been listening?"

"You-You _lie_ ," I managed to whisper through still lips. "That's what you do, right? Lie?"

"Oh, my lovely little creature," he said with a smile, leaning down even farther. "I vow to you, on the grave of the queen of Asgard, on my own life and yours, Annabelle, I have never lied to you…And I never will, for as long as I have breath within me."

" _I don't believe you!_ " I yelled at him as loudly as I could, what with his hand still just one flinch away from ripping my jaw clean off my skull.

Infuriated, apparently, by my answer, the supposedly dead god frowned at me. He retaliated by sitting up on his knees, effectively straddling me, then slapping his other hand over my eye, effectively rendering my vision to nothing but black.

"Listen to my voice, you mortal," Loki hissed at me, his voice low and threatening. "You may hold my heart in your hands, but I still have no tolerance for the ignorance your kind is known for! Listen to my every word, Annabelle, and listen very carefully, for I cannot be bothered to keep reminding you of something so obvious."

There was a pause, and I was pinching my eyes shut, trying to force myself to wake up. His hand removed itself from my jaw, and began to stroke my hair in a matter that would be soothing if _literally_ _anybody_ else was doing it.

" _I have never, and will never, lie to you._ "

He seemed to take a pause after those words, giving me time to finally do something about the situation. While my eyes were covered and hair was being stroked like a dog's, I let out a scream like none other. I dug deep, forcing the loudest, most bloodcurdling scream I could possibly produce and hoping that in reality, I would let out some sort of sound to alert Bucky or someone else that I wasn't having the nicest dream.

_-~0O0~-_

"Anna!"

The shout wasn't close by, but it was enough to ensure that I was waking up. I gasped in another inhale, and let out another scream, this time shooting up into a sitting position from the bed, opening my eyes wide, just in time to see Bucky practically take the door off the hinges.

"Anna!" He bellowed out again, running to the bed.

Bucky grabbed me in his arms, holding me tight and whispering that I was safe from whatever I was dreaming of.

"It wasn't a dream!" I half-sobbed, half-screamed into his chest as I grabbed at the light knit material of the sweater he wore. "It-It wasn't a dream!"

"S-Sargent Barnes? What happened? Is Anna alright?" Even through my tearful screaming, I could tell the voice came from a concerned Ellie.

"How many times have I told you, Ellie, call me—! Never mind!" Bucky cut himself off, sitting properly on the bed to cradle me against his chest, holding me tightly and going so far as to wrap a blanket around me. His memory was coming back; he knew when I was like this, being wrapped up in a quilt, no matter how warm it was in the room, helped me. "Anna, whatever you think you saw, it _was not real! Darlin'_ you need to _listen_ _to_ _me_!"

"Bucky! What's wrong?" This time it was Steve.

"I don't know! I-I heard her screaming and came right in," Bucky answered, rubbing circles on my back to try and sooth me.

They conversed for a few moments longer, about my delirious state, and my sobs began to slow down. The whole episode left me exhausted, and I limply laid against Bucky's chest, letting him hold me tightly and rub both his hands over my back in soothing, meaningless patterns.

"She keeps saying that it was real, that it wasn't a dream…" Bucky said. His voice seemed far away, like I was underwater listening to him. I only heard one more thing before my eyes closed and I left the conscious world. "Steve, _what the hell happened to her_?"

* * *

"Good morning," I sighed, walking into the kitchen. I'd taken a shower, and switched out the blue dress for a pair of black shorts and a purple t-shirt. After glancing around the room and seeing everyone was already in there, I spoke up again. "Sorry about last night…Occupational hazard, you know?"

"I didn't even know about it until I woke up this morning," Kára said offhandedly. "After I got my wings back, I've been sleepin' like the dead."

I saw Bucky send her a sidelong glare, which the Valkyrie rolled her eyes at. She threw back the rest of her orange juice, and left the kitchen, announcing that she was going to go pack up her bags.

Jamie saw what was going to go down, and invited Ellie out for a walk to see some of the beautiful plant life that grew in the lush greenery just off the beach. When it was just Steve, Bucky and I in the kitchen, I finally saw the expression on Bucky's face; somewhere between shock, anger and extreme empathy. The moment the door shut behind Jamie, I grabbed an apple and threw it full force at Steve.

He managed to move, and protect his bowl of cereal. The apple hit his bicep, and was gracefully caught by his hand before it hit the floor. "Anna! What was that for?" He exclaimed, throwing the apple back at me.

"You told him about New York!" I said accusingly while throwing my hand out gesturing to Bucky.

"You woke up screaming in the middle of the night, Anna," Steve said in a strong, clam voice which only pissed me off more. "What choice did I have?"

"Oh _please_ , Steve!" I scoffed, frowning deeply. "All three of us have woken up screaming from nightmares! Like I said, it's an occupational hazard! I mean, Bucky used to shred my pillows on a monthly basis!"

"Why wouldn't you tell me about this, Anna?" Bucky finally spoke up, standing from his seat at the island and leaving his coffee cup behind. "You have a god in your head and you didn't tell me about it!"

"I can't believe I have to justify not telling you about Loki!" I shot back at him. "Honey, you had countless people inside your head for upwards of half a century! Pardon me for not telling you about a really screwed up few days four years ago when you're still remembering your own goddamn life!"

"You've been up to a lot of things since HYDRA got me, Anna, I get that and get that it'll take a little while for you to fill me in on them, but something as big as this is something I should know!"

"That wasn't even the most traumatizing thing that happened to me in 2012 Bucky!" I half-yelled at him. "I'm tougher than you think—and _for the love of God_ , stop being so stupidly _selfless_ for just a month so you can _heal_!"

Steve had been watching us fight with wide eyes; he'd never seen us argue like this before. Or, ever, really. Aside from our little shouting match before Bucky left, we seldom fought, and it was an even more rare occurrence that we argued in front of others. Bucky himself was stunned at my words and the volume of my voice, and could only look at me with wide eyes.

"Now, unless you want me to tell you about any of the other traumatizing things you missed, I'm going to go pack my crap for Hawaii, because we need to have our asses on a plane by noon!" I shouted in frustration, before turning on a heel and marching back to the room Bucky and I have been sharing.

Once there, I closed the door behind myself and headed to the bathroom to collect my things. My eyes caught sight of the sleek black straightener on the counter, then they went to my reflection in the mirror. I hadn't been straightening my hair every day like I used to. In fact, I hadn't touched the thing in over a week. Idly, I picked it up just to look at it closer. I opened at closed it several times, hearing the ceramic plates clack together several times.

I just didn't talk about Loki. It just wasn't something I did. The files on New York were very comprehensive and detailed when talking about our interaction, but they didn't tell the whole thing. They didn't explain how kind and lost he was when I first met him in Asgard years ago. They didn't talk about how I thought of him fondly and often wish I could see him again through the years. The files didn't detail how deeply his actions cut when he acted so cruel, and made me do such awful things. It didn't explain how betrayed I felt when someone I thought was a friend made me do such awful thing. It also didn't explain just how deep his obsession with me went. It didn't talk about how much he terrified me. I didn't talk about him; hell, I didn't like to _think_ about him.

I yanked my curls out of the hair tie holding them back, and let them bounce around my shoulders. After plugging in the flat iron, I grabbed a brush and began untangling manageable chunks of hair.

Loki loved my curls.

* * *

Omniscient POV

It came as no suprise to Bucky, Anna and Kára that Ellie insisted on going to Oahu, but it made a vein in Steve's neck throb with worry. They sat next to each other on the plane, but that was mostly due to the fact that Ellie had only traveled on conventional commercial planes or private jets, a military transport plane was a world different.

The five passengers sat on the two benches along the sides of the aircraft, strapped in and leaning against cold, vibrating metal. Ellie insisted on sitting next to Steve, and held his hand during the whole flight. He soon let go of the brunette's hand to put an arm around her, and with her head on his chest, Ellie was soon calmly lulled to sleep by the movement of the plane, Steve's breathing and the movements of his hand on her shoulder. Steve followed soon after, with his cheek gently resting on Ellie's head.

Kára took pictures.

Bucky and Anna had a short conversation on the plane as well. Bucky complained about Anna's straightened hair, and Anna complained that he hadn't let her trim his hair yet. Anna admitted she overreacted, but was adamant on her choice not to tell him about Loki. They came to a solution that both could deal with; nothing would be discussed while visiting Rebecca, after that Anna would tell Bucky a little more about Loki, but Bucky wouldn't get Anna's life story until Kára and Wanda deemed him mentally stable enough to process the information.

When they landed at the Wheeler Army Airfield, and somehow Ellie slept through it; Steve tried to wake her up gently. Anna went to talk to the pilot, and Bucky planned on waiting for her, but Kára dragged him out.

"Wanna see something cool?" The Valkyrie asked, grinning at Bucky as she dragged him to where some men were doing some training exercises.

"Sure…" He said skeptically. The last time Kára asked if he wanted to see something cool, she showed him a jaw with a preserved kidney in it. She yanked it out of an officer who was shot in the first war, and his kidney grew around the bullet.

The blonde grinned, and turned more towards the men on the training field. "I don't know if Anna told you, but she really made an impression on the US military," she began. "Trust me, you'll get a kick outta this!"

The man hollering at them commanded them to drop and do some pushups, but that didn't deter Kára. She brought two fingers up to her lips and let out a short pattern of shrill whistles. Then, she cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled "One-Oh-Seven! Help requested by Alpha Alpha Alpha Bravo!"

A large group of the men all stopped, wide eyed, and looked briefly at man shouting instructions at them. He too seemed a little stunned. "You heard the lady!" he finally shouted.

The man scrambled to their feet at stood at attention; hands at their sides and backs ramrod straight. "The One-Oh-Seventh is prepared to serve! At your command Alpha Bravo!"

Bucky simply raised his brows, and let out a laugh. Before he could say anything, Anna walked past. To Bucky, she looked amazing; some short black shorts, white shirt and an oversized camouflage jacket with 'Alpha Bravo' stitched where the name should be, and her eyes covered by reflective sunglasses. She was holding her bag over her shoulder like Bucky used to see soldiers do. A smirk was proudly on her face as she passed.

" _God bless America_ ," she sighed, eyeing the men standing at attention as she passed.


	51. Chapter 51: Rebecca

**HOLY CRAP ON CHRISTMAS THIS IS A LONG ASS CHAPTER.**

 **The language is pretty much only used in my authors note.**

 **Sorry this took so long; still getting used to my second semester classes. They are kicking my butt currently. Also, UP weather is making me slip and fall on my butt.**

 **I bet a few reviews might encourage me to post again soon! ;)**

 **~Christianne**

* * *

Anna POV

"Are you sure you don't want Steve to be here?" I asked for what felt like the hundredth time.

"You know, I've been keepin' track of how many times you've asked me that," Bucky sighed in response, getting out of the passenger's side door. "Twenty-three, counting the one you said just now."

Having got out of the car as well, I grabbed his flesh forearm, causing him to look down at me. Since we arrived in Hawaii yesterday afternoon, Bucky hadn't shown the slightest glimmer of anxiety or apprehension about meeting Rebecca. The overall positive attitude he was showing concerned me; I wasn't sure if it was all just the calm before the storm, triggered by meeting his remaining family members. "I need to know that you're going to be ok in there," I spoke lowly, jerking my thumb to the large white home over my shoulder.

Bucky responded by gently covering my hand with his metal one, and squeezing slightly. For the briefest moment, a nervousness flashed in his blue eyes. "I'll be ok...If-If I feel like I'm not, I'll high-tail it outta there and leave you to catch up to me."

I smiled a little at his words, and turned to stand next to him, shoulder to shoulder, keeping my hand on his arm. "So...What'd'ya think of your sister's place?"

"It's...It's big," he managed to say, catching my hand in his sweaty flesh one when I dropped his arm. "Were the folks who adopted her well off 'er sumthin'?" He mumbled out.

"They were ok, I guess," I paused in thought. "I'm not the best judge of that, really. The way I was raised, if you didn't have a chauffeur, you were poor...They had a maid, so, I guess they did alright."

Bucky chuckled lightly at my admitted ignorance, making me smile.

"Technically, Ian bought this place. Rebecca and Penny moved in with him," I explained a little farther.

"Ian...I know that name," Bucky mumbled, a crease forming between his brows as he thought hard, trying to match a name to a face.

"Ian Drummond," I offered helpfully. He didn't like it when I straight out told him how he knew or recognized someone. Events, he didn't seem to mind me explaining; he didn't care a whole lot about forgetting them. It was forgetting people that really got to him. \

"I-I know the guy," Bucky said, using his metal thumb and forefinger to gently pinch the bridge of his nose as his eyes pinched shut tight. "I-I can picture him-tall dark haired guy, right? Irish, or something?"

I stayed silent, until he opened his eyes and gave me a pleading look.

"He was Scottish," I corrected first. "He was with me at the HYDRA castle. Brought him back to the SSR after you pulled me out of that place, and he stayed on as a strategist 'till the war ended."

I watched as Bucky's forehead relaxed, and a small smile graced his lips. " _Oh_ , Ian," he said, laughing slightly. "How the _Hell_ did I forget that guy? Could hardly understand him when he got frustrated, with his accent and all."

Then, his smile fell. "Ian married Rebecca?"

"Not really my story to tell," I admitted. "But when Penny married Alexi, Ian walked her down the aisle."

Still slightly sceptical, Bucky pursed his lips slightly, and nodded, looking at the pale yellow door standing in the middle of the large porch.

"Who's all gonna be there, again?" He asked.

"The whole Barnes bunch," I told him with an involuntary grin. "Jimmy, Rebecca's son, his son JJ and his wife Clarisse, and TJ, JJ's son."

"Didn't I already meet TJ?" Bucky asked.

"No, I kept telling you to hunt him down and make him meet you," I said, frowning at the fact that the sneaky little tech managed to avoid his great-great-uncle the entire time spent in Spain.

"Why didn't he want to meet me?" Bucky asked, looking at me with a very apprehensive expression.

I sighed. "Well, the Barnes' had quite the reputation at S.H.I.E.L.D. Jimmy was in the very first class from the Operations Academy, and was ranked number one when he graduated. He was a real trailblazer in integrating new tech into an old-school spy world, and literally wrote the Op Handbook that was still used by S.H.I.E.L.D. before shit hit the fan."

"Wow...Accomplished guy," Bucky commented, letting go of my hand to cross his arms lightly and lean on a palm tree near the path.

"His twin brother died in Vietnam, and was one of the youngest, and most decorated captains. He got the Medal of Honor posthumously for all the lives he saved-both American and Vietnamese," I continued, leaning on the tree next to Bucky. "JJ, TJ's dad also graduated at the top of his class at the Ops Academy, and was one of the top agents at S.H.I.E.L.D. until the day he retired. Well, not _retired_ , I guess. He had a minor stroke a few years back, and I forced Fury to give him a choice; ride a desk until he croaked, or take a fat pension check and retire...JJ would rather die than be chained to a desk, so he hung up his badge...Everybody in the intelligence community knows who JJ Barnes is; he revamped the entire Operations Academy while he was laid up with a gunshot wound and a kindergartener runnin' around. After he retired from S.H.I.E.L.D., he spent a few years consulting for agencies across the country and a few of our close allies, improving their various academies."

"TJ didn't wanna meet me 'cause a _that_?" Bucky asked, looking at me with wide, confused blue eyes. " _Why?_ They sound like great men to be related to."

"They are, and he knows that," I admitted. "But, think about what all three have in common."

Bucky's brows furrowed in thought.

"Jimmy, Stevie, and JJ were all in the field-They were all tall, broad shouldered men who excelled at all things physical and everyone knew it...TJ was a mid-level tech at S.H.I.E.L.D."

"So?" Bucky asked, pairing the question with a shrug.

" _So_ ," I repeated, getting up of the tree. "TJ's been carrying around the Barnes' legacy since he got to the Communications Academy, and has been trying to keep it balanced on his shoulders while people throw the fact that he failed his family's name in his face."

Bucky's face melted into a neutral mask of understanding and a good amount of frustration.

I counted to thirty-five.

"You ready to go in?" I asked, grabbing his hands and swinging them between us. He smiled a little, and nodded.

* * *

"Hello?" I called through the large open foyer.

I closed the door behind Bucky and me, and locked the deadbolt. "Hey, anybody home?"

A man appeared from one of the hallways, and after taking both Bucky and I in, he grinned and approached us with open arms. "Auntie," he said in a happy, but slightly low tone.

"Jimmy! Oh, it's great to see you!" I said, walking forward to catch my godson in a hug. When we parted, I took a minute to eye his appearance. The memories of Stevie and Jimmy in their bassinet was clear as a bell in my mind, but the man in front of me was by no means an infant. The years had given Jimmy lines in his face, and thinned his dark brown hair and turned it silver. Being seventy had robbed him of his tall, broad shouldered figure, replacing it was a willowy, slowly moving, softly shaking one. But his signature, Barnes' blue eyes still sparkled with the light of a twenty-five year old at the prime of his life.

"It's been far too long, Auntie," Jimmy said, a smile spreading over his thin lips. "Now, are you going to introduce me to this young man?" he asked, looking at Bucky, who was standing awkwardly by the door, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

"Of course," I said, then turned to Bucky. I held a hand out to him, beckoning him forward. He hesitated, and took a few steps towards me, grasping my hand tightly in his flesh one. Jimmy, even with his age-strained eyes, could see how nervous the man standing slightly behind me was. "James Ian Barnes, meet James Buchanan Barnes, more commonly known as Jimmy and Bucky.

"It-It's...It's great-..." Bucky started and stopped his sentence a few times, swallowing when he finally stopped trying to speak. He looked almost nervous under Jimmy's gaze, which was just as sharp and blue as his own. Bucky finally sighed, and put on a wry smile. "Hi."

"Well, hi to you to, Bucky," Jimmy chuckled. "I've heard many things about you...Didn't think I'd ever get to meet you in the flesh."

Bucky ducked his head as he smiled, and awkwardly scratched the back of his neck with his metal hand. He winced slightly as a couple of the plates caught in his hair, but managed to quickly detangle it. His metal hand jammed sheepishly into the front pocket of his pants.

"My mother is upstairs with TJ now," Jimmy finally spoke up after Bucky refused to say anything. "Why don't you come meet the rest of your family while they finish up."

With that, Jimmy began making his way back through the hallway, waving his hand for us to follow. I glanced at Bucky, who was watching his nephew walk away; Jimmy had to grip the small railing to get up a set of three steps at the end of the hall.

"I'm older than him, aren't I?" He asked softly.

"You would'a been about thirty when he and his brother were born," I answered in an equally soft tone.

"It's hard...Seein' him like that...I knew he'd be older, but in my head I just kept picturin' a kid," Bucky continued, frowning slightly.

"You don't have to meet the rest of them," I said quickly. "They'd understand. We can just see Rebecca and go back to the base."

"No...No, I wanna meet them," He said firmly, even nodding a little. "I wanna meet my...my family."

I grinned, and grasped his hand even tighter as I began pulling him through the house. The stairs Jimmy went up went to the kitchen, so that's where I went, towing Bucky behind me. I stopped at the doorway and stayed silent, allowing Bucky the chance to take in the room before entering.

On the far end of the kitchen, Jimmy was easing himself into a chair at the large table, surrounded by open windows. He sat at the head of the table, with his son JJ to his right. Clarisse was next to him, holding her husband's hand in one of hers, and spinning her wedding band with her thumb on the other. There was a fourth chair half pulled out, and a cell phone on the placemat; TJ's seat.

"Ah, the man and lady of the hour," JJ said, being the first one to notice us by the doorway. He grinned, and warmly beckoned us forward. I was going to look at Bucky one more time before proceeding, but he stepped forward without hesitation. My heart was soaring as we passed the fridge, stove and counters of the kitchen before standing in front of the well loved and worn table that seated the Barnes family.

"Bucky Barnes," JJ sighed, falling back slightly in his chair, smiling a little. He brought the hand held by his wife to his lips, and pressed a kiss to the back of it before letting it go and standing up.

"They say never meet your heros," JJ said, walking around the table so he stood in front of both of us. "But it is truly and honor." He then held out his hand for Bucky to shake.

The Barnes' were a huggy group. I had called ahead to let them know that the extremely intimate contact might be a little too much for Bucky's fractured mind.

So imagine my surprise when he dropped my hand and grabbed JJ in a hug.

JJ seemed a little shocked to say the least, but soon smiled knowingly and hugged him back. It was interesting to watch. Bucky was almost twice JJ's age, chronologically speaking, but with how they embraced, it was more like a son embracing his father. When they parted, Bucky had a smile on his face. "It-It's great to meet you."

...

Introductions were made, and soon Bucky was sitting on Jimmy's other side. He was on the edge of his seat as he listened to all three Barnes' tell their stories. Everything from S.H.I.E.L.D. missions and birthday mishaps were discussed, with occasional input from myself.

After about an hour, TJ came into the kitchen, and stopped a few feet from the table when he saw Bucky and me. "You can go talk to her now, if you want," he mumbled, jamming his hand into his pockets.

"Where are your manners, TJ?" his mother scolded him teasingly. "Say hello to Anna and Bucky!"

"Hi," he said quickly. "I-I have a few things I need to do." With that, he grabbed his phone from the table and practically sprinted from the room. While the Barnes' all sighed at TJ's behavior, Bucky looked at me questioningly.

"I'll fix it all later," I assured him, pressing a kiss to his temple as I stood. I'm gonna go talk to Rebecca, fill her in on the situation, you know? Come on up in, say, twenty minutes. You'll know which room."

* * *

"Hey Becca," I said softly, entering the last bedroom on the right; the one with double doors.

The master bedroom was flooded with light, and the pale blue and white color scheme only made it seem brighter. It would be a purely cheerful and happy space, had the scene on the four-poster bed not been so sad.

"Anna...It's about time you came to see me...It's been a long time," Rebecca Barnes' tired, aged voice said from the bed. She was covered from the chest down with the light blankets that made the bed, one arm over her stomach and the other laying next to her. A heart monitor beeped steadily near her, and an IV was taped to the back of her hand. Gone was the glossy, thick brown hair that used to define her, instead, a wiry mane of thinning white hair encircled her head on her pillow.

Smiling softly, I went to her bedside, stopping only to grab the chair from her vanity. I pulled it to her side, spun it around backwards and sat on it so my torso leaned on the back. I crossed my arms over the carved chair back, and rested my chin on my forearms.

"Sorry I couldn't get here sooner," I said sheepishly.

"Oh, that's alright..." She said with a soft, breathy laugh. "I wasn't planning on going anywhere...Not just yet, anyway...Still have things to do."

"You always were a busy gal," I recalled fondly.

"Whenever I sat idle, I'd always get into mischief," Rebecca said, her thin lips pulling into a tired smile. "Used to drive Ian crazy."

"Remember when the twins went to kindergarten?" I asked, smiling a little bigger.

"Oh yes," she laughed again. I missed her hearty, full laugh. Now it was just soft chuckles that sometimes weazed or were followed by a short coughing fit. "I must have redecorated the whole house within a month!"

"Yeah, and you threw out that _terrible_ taxidermied squirrel he was so attached to," I added. "We must have spent a good two hours sifting through garbage."

"He was so attached to that stupid squirrel," Rebecca sighed, looking away from me to the mantle of the fireplace across from her bed. Between the framed pictures of her family and friends, the poorly taxidermied grey squirrel in question sat on the left side, proudly posed with his paws grasping air in front of his little open mouth. The acorn he originally held had been lost long ago.

"You know, he got it himself when he took me to Scotland to meet his family...He shot at it, but all he did was scare the poor thing unconscious...It woke up as he was picking it up from the ground, and-and-" Rebecca began to laugh breathily as she spoke, recalling the actions of her late partner. "-He did this funny little dance on the edge of the forest, calling out 'How do I kill it? How do I kill it?'"

"Yeah, ended up bashing the thing against a tree," I finished for her, letting her laugh. She looked at me with a slightly questioning look. I knew what it meant, and my face turned sad.

"Have I told you this story before?" She asked, her brows furrowing a she asked. All I could do was smile sadly. She sighed, and matched my sad smile. "You were there, weren't you?"

"I was the one who forced Ian to go back to Scotland in the first place...He was having a hard time, remember? He needed to reconnect with his family there..." I hinted, waiting for realization to cross her features. "I-I needed to be in the UK around that time anyway...Peggy requested my help on an MI-5 mission she was consulting on."

Rebecca's face remained sadly unknowing. She frowned deeper, and looked away from me.

"Hey...Hey, it's alright, Becs," I said, forcing a happier smile on my face. I reached out and gently placed my hand over hers; the one laying on the bed next to her, as the other held the IV. "It...It happens."

"Not to you," she said quietly, her voice sad. She still refused to look at me. "You do not forget that your closest friend was there, in your most favorite memories."

I paused, my thumb moving slightly on the back of her hand. It was warm and delicate under mine. Her fair skin was like crepe paper, and I felt like if I moved to fast or pressed to hard, it would tare.

Abruptly, I change the subject and my demeanor; I went back to the friendly, reminiscing tone and a smile. "Do you remember when we met?"

That got Rebecca smiling again. She looked at me with thankful, happy eyes. "How could I forget it?...You changed my life forever when you knocked on the door."

"Hey, mine changed too," I reminded her playfully, pulling my hand back to teasingly point at her. "Before that, I never thought I'd be helping glue rhinestones to a pixi ballet costume!"

"It was a _fairy_ costume," Rebecca corrected me, and I rolled my eyes slightly, but smiled at the hidden, proud look on her face. Truth is, I knew it was a fairy costume.

"Do...Do you remember what I told you about Bucky?" I asked hopefully.

She paused, and thought for a moment, looking at one of the frames on her nightstand. It was an old, double frame that folded in the middle; when open, it balanced on the bend and displayed two photographs. "We were sitting in the living room, drinking coffee...You showed me his pictures, those in the frame there."

"Yeah, you almost cried just seein' him for the first time," I recalled, giving her hand a gentle, light as air flick. Neither of us liked to cry in front of others, and teased each other when we did, or almost did.

"I knew he looked like me, the hair and eyes, at least," Rebecca sighed. "But I'd forgotten what he really looked like."

"Yeah," I mumbled, licking my lips before speaking again. "But...But, do you remember what I told you about him?"

"You told me he was a hero," she said instantly, smiling sadly. Her gaze flicked to the pictures of Bucky again. "You told me he was one of the most decorated soldiers, and an excellent shot."

"Anything else?" I asked, hoping I wouldn't have to remind her of past events again.

She simply sighed, and gave me a frustrated look, that quickly turned slightly amused. "You spoke so much about him that day, and so many days after that, it's hard to know what you said about him when."

I smiled at her humor of the situation. "I...I told you that before he-he died, he finding you when he got back to the states was on the top of his list."

"Second only to marrying you, I believe Howard said one time," she giggled slightly. Her laugh had changed with age, but her light, bell-like giggles were still girlish and young.

Though I smiled and blushed slightly at that particular memory, I didn't let it sidetrack me. My expression turned a little more serious. "He really wanted to meet you, Becca."

She smiled back at me sadly.

"So, I know you're on some pain medication," I began, sitting up more in my backwards chair. "And I don't want to think that you're, like, dying or hallucinating or something crazy like that, alright?"

"Why would I think I was dying?" she asked, curiously, looking up at me from her pillows as I stood from my chair.

"This is one hundred percent real, alright? I don't wanna bore you with all the whys, hows and what the hells, so just stay here and I'll be right back...This is all real," I reminded her one last time. She frowned at me in confusion, but I just gave her a nod, then went out of the room.

I closed her door behind me, and looked around the second floor.

Bucky was sitting at the top of the steps, messing with his newly cut hair and tugging on his collar nervously. I walked over to him, and put a hand on his shoulder. Neither of us said anything as he stood up and followed me to Rebecca's room. I opened the door slowly, and walked in ahead of Bucky, letting him linger briefly at the door.

In the few minutes I was gone, Rebecca had closed her eyes, and looked half asleep. I leaned over her slightly, and put a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, Becs...You awake?" I half-whispered.

She nodded, and slowly opened her heavy eyes. "Yes...Yes, I'm awake...When all you have to do is lay in a soft bed and let the sun and breeze fall over you, napping comes as easy to you as breathing."

I smiled at her words, and stood up straighter. "I hope you're up for another guest...He's really eager to meet you."

I stepped to the side slightly, allowing Rebecca a better view of the open double doors.

Bucky stood numbly there, looking at his little sister with wide eyes that seemed so childlike.

After taking in the man at her door, Rebecca removed her hand from her stomach, and moved it to press down on the bed. She began to move so she would sit up more, but her frail, shaking arms struggled, I put one hand between her shoulder blades, and helped her up. Once I added one more pillow, and fluffed all of them generously, I helped her lay back on them.

With a better vantage point, Rebecca gazed at Bucky with watery eyes. "Now I understand why you told me I might think I was dying," she said softly, her voice getting slightly thick.

Bucky just stood there, unsure what to do.

His sister on the other hand, was smiling tearfully at him. She raised one of her arms, and held her hand out to him. "Come here, I-I want to compare you to the pictures Anna gave me."

Obediently, Bucky took quick, light steps until he was next to Rebecca and me. He opened his mouth, and his lips moved, but no sound came out. He snapped his lips shut and swallowed thickly. "Can-Can I sit?" He asked, his eyes flickering down before they met Rebecca's again.

"Of course," she said, lowering her hand slightly.

I quickly spun the chair around on one back leg, but by the time it was properly facing the bed, Bucky had carefully perched himself on the edge of Rebecca's large bed. It dipped down under his weight, and I looked to Rebecca for her reaction. A lone tear trailed down her face, and she wiped it away quickly.

"Bucky," she said softly, smiling through her unshed tears. She reached for his hand, pressed onto the bed to steady himself, and laid hers on top of it. "I-I never thought I would ever truly meet you...I thought you'd be waiting for me up in Heaven, but-but this is so much better."

I watched as Bucky's face began to twitch and form a smile if its own. He seemed to struggle for words for quite some time, then he smiled a little bigger and settled on a simple sentence. "Hello Rebecca."

It seemed like such a private Barnes' moment, so I pulled the chair back to the vanity a few feet away, and sat there, just watching the brother and sister meet for the first time in their adult lives.

"I'm not even going to ask how you're here, or how you look just like your pictures," Rebecca began, still smiling as much as her tired, aged face would allow. "I'm just so glad you're here now."

"I-I'm glad I'm here now too," Bucky said, still struggling to find words. His focus was so trained on noticing every little thing about his sister, it seemed, that it was taking power from the speech centers of his mind.

"Oh, but couldn't you have come earlier?" She complained lightly, raising a hand to move and flatten her white hair. "Say, forty years earlier? I would have been all dressed up and pretty to meet you."

"Aw, I still think you're pretty, _petite souris_ ," Bucky said in a soft, fond voice. His flesh hand was all but shaking as it reached towards her hair. Rebecca let hers fall away so Bucky could smooth her hair over her shoulders, and tuck some behind her ear.

"What was that? What-What you said at the end?" Rebecca asked, confused. I too was wondering that. I knew what the French phrase meant, but I was beyond how Bucky knew it. The scraps of foreign languages he was getting back bit by bit were usually Russian or German; him knowing French was straight out of left field.

"I-I'm not really sure," he admitted through a sheepish chuckle. "Don't know what it means...I-I'm not sure if Anna told you, but-but my head's pretty messed up...It-It just popped into my head when I saw you, and...and it seemed the right thing for me to call you."

"It's French," I spoke up, making both of them look at me. "It's a term of endearment, like, from a mother to a sister, or...or a brother to a sister."

"What's it mean?" Bucky asked eagerly.

I smiled. "Little mouse."

Rebecca laughed softly, and looked at her brother, who was blushing slightly. "Now, where would you pick something like that up?"

Bucky looked to me, his eyes hoping for an answer. I hesitated, but sat forward in my seat and began to explain the theory that had rapidly formed in my head. "Way back when, after I thought Bucky was-...Afte;r I thought he was gone, I looked into your family history. You two had a grandmother, on your momma's side, who came here from Belgium...French and Dutch are pretty common there, so your momma probably grew up with French spoken all the time...Bucky, you probably heard her call Becca _petite souris_ and just picked it up."

"Oh, do you remember her? Our mother?" Rebecca asked, even though Bucky was still looking at me with surprised eyes.

"I...Not-Not really," he mumbled. His face seemed to fall when he saw Rebecca's disappointment. "I-I don't remember what she looks like or anything, but-but I remember some really little, pointless things."

"Tell me all of them," Rebecca demanded, eyes wide with interest.

Since Ian died, nearly twenty years ago, Rebecca had changed. He truly was the love of her life, and when his life ended, it seemed to pull some of hers out too. That was when she began having some more serious health problems, and stopping going to charity and community meetings. I hadn't seen her this vibrant in _decades_.

"Well, I have her ring," Bucky began, clearly unsure how to begin. "Her engagement ring, the one with the stone. I had dad's band, but I-I'm not sure what happened to it."

"What does it look like, her ring?"

Bucky sent me a sidelong glance, and smiled at my over exaggerated casual expression. "Go on, Buck, tell her what the ring looks like."

He narrowed his eyes, and leaned closer to his sister. "I'll tell 'ya when Annie's not here...She's been hounding me to see it since she first found out about it."

Rebecca laughed, really laughed, and I almost cried seeing it. She didn't seem like she was nearing 100 when she laughed. It was short lived, though. After only a few minutes of hearty laugher, she began to cough and wheeze for breath. Bucky looked at me in alarm, and I was already on my feet. I grabbed an oxygen mask from the side table, threw it at him and turned the knob on the tank. Bucky held the plastic mask gently to Rebecca's face, her hand soon replacing his own as she took deep breaths.

"Maybe I shouldn't try to be funny...Don't wanna make you laugh if you do that when you do," Bucky said, frowning. That crease formed between his brows.

Rebecca turned to look at me. "You were right," she said from under the plastic mask. "He _does_ worry too much sometimes."

* * *

It had been hours since Bucky began talking with Rebecca.

They were both currently in her bed, Rebecca holding the oxygen mask close by, and Bucky on top of the covers. He held a photo album in his lap, one of many, and was paging through it. Rebecca told him the story behind every single picture, stopping now and then to take a few deep breaths through the oxygen mask.

I was hanging around; I'd abandoned my seat by the vanity for the plushly cushioned window seats on the opposite end of the room. After leaving briefly for a glass of water and a laptop, I was constantly doing a little work, and smiling now and then at what was being said.

It was around seven thirty that the sun began to set, and Rebecca's stories were requiring frequent stops for her to breathe through the mask.

"I can't help but feel a little cheated," she said offhandedly as Bucky replaced the photo album on a bookshelf. "My big brother is still young and spry, while I can't stay up past dusk."

"You should, you know, get some sleep," he answered, shrugging slightly.

"I'm old, I've had plenty of time to sleep before," she said dismissivly.

"Becs, listen to him," I sighed, closing my laptop. "You had a heart attack less than two weeks ago."

"So what? You were shot in the leg one time and went to a fundraiser ball three days later," she reminded me with a little pout.

I was glad I brought Bucky; he seemed to put back a little bit of Rebecca's spunk.

"First, it was a graze," I said, rolling my eyes. "And second, we'll come visit you tomorrow, alright? You two can chit-chat 'till the cows come home."

"We only got through two albums," Bucky reminded her, smiling a little. "Haven't even gotten to Alexi yet."

"Alright," Rebecca sighed, pretending to be upset about the idea of sleeping. It was clear the day had been tiring on her. "Please close the windows, before you leave...Got a bat in here years ago. Haven't slept with them open since."

"On it," I said, dutifully going to the windows. Once they were all shut and the shades drawn, I turned around, and stopped at the sight before me.

Bucky gently helped Rebecca so she was laying in a more flat position, and even arranged her covers over her.

"Oh, you don't have to do all that," she told him. "I'm old, not helpless."

"I don't mind," Bucky said in a quiet voice; the voice reserved for people he really cared about. "I-I'm your older brother, Rebecca...It's my job to look after you...Had a bit of an absence, but that doesn't mean I still can't do it."

"Older brother..." Rebecca repeated, smiling slightly. "You may have been born before me, but I don't think you can call yourself my _older brother_."

Bucky just shrugged. "Doesn't matter," he amended, turning off the lamp on the side table, seeing that I was now by the door. "You're still my little sister."

Rebecca smiled, even though I doubt she could see him anymore.

"Get some sleep, _petite souris_ ," Bucky said quietly, and pressed a gently kiss to Rebecca's forehead. With that, we both left the room.

The moment I shut the doors behind us, Bucky grabbed me in a hug. With his face buried into my neck, I embraced him back, carding my fingers through his thick hair. It wasn't long before I felt him begin to shake and cry softly.

"She-She's _amazing_ ," he mumbled into my neck.

"I know she is...She's one of my best friends," I said calmly.

He didn't respond, but continued to cry against my neck. Everyone else was most likely asleep (aside from TJ) in the other wing of the house, so nobody would interrupt us.

"She's amazing...But you still wish you could've met her back then," I said softly, knowing that was exactly what he was thinking. He held me tighter.

"Don't think about that, ok? You got to meet her now, and that's what matters," I continued.

"What-What did you tell her about me? When-When you met her...What did you tell her?" He mumbled into my neck. "What-What did she think of me all these years?"

I sighed, and rested my head against his. "I told her _all_ about you...I told her you were a hero."

* * *

Omniscient POV

"Steve, what's your first memory?"

The randomness of the question didn't throw Steve at all. He simply looked up from his sketch pad and to the left, where Ellie was currently standing. He had chosen to sit contently on a towel in the sand, drawing the sunset. His brunette partner on the other hand, was roaming around within a circle of about ten feet, with Steve at the center. She walked in random patterns, using a thin stick of driftwood to create intricute patterns in the sand. Now and then, she'd lift up her skirt, wade into the water and pluck out stones or shells to add to the design.

"I dunno," he said honestly, glancing back at his sketch. He prefered pencils or charcoal, but he opted for some colored pastels. It wasn't often he had a non-stressful span of time on a beach, so he wanted to remember it vividly. "Probably my mom teaching me how to fasten suspenders and not get them twisted."

"How old were you?" Ellie asked, continuing to make her pattern.

That made Steve stop and think. "I couldn't have been more than six," he thought outloud. "Seven and a half at the oldest."

"Hm."

"What about you?"

"What about me what?" Ellie asked innocently, avoiding Steve's question.

It was strange for others who knew about Ellie to hear her speak in a way that seemed so normal. She didn't communicate with poems or complicated metaphors with Steve. It wasn't until Kara pointed it out that Ellie found out her poetic speech was a nervous habit. Her compulsive need to right and create poems had diminished as well. She still enjoyed it very much, but she could go places without clutching her leather bound notebook to her chest. Steve was _good for her_. But that's not why she was always at his side. Ellie was drawn to Steve for the same reason that he was chosen to be a part of Project: Rebirth; he was, in his heart, a good man. He saw through her hard shell of dangerous and uncontrolled abilities and saw what she really was; someone so desperately lonely that they could hardly function. Steve was kind to Ellie in ways she had never experienced; he was patient with her, didn't question her quirks, and would sit willingly while she rambled on and on about something, and genuinely listen.

All of these were reasons that Ellie and Steve were in the beginnings of what would surely be a meaningful, intense relationship, but there were more typical, innocent reasons that only they knew. Ellie would always giggle when Steve told one of his _many_ , dated, often unfunny knock-knock jokes, and wouldn't tease him when he used tease him when he used terms or slang from before the microwave was invented. Steve liked to watch when Ellie was staring into space, and began twirling her hair around her finger. When Steve was planning a mission or in meetings with others, Ellie would be the one to gently remind him to eat something, lest he want to pass out due to a lack of calories in his over-metabolizing body. Steve no longer blushed when he asked to draw Ellie or tried to do it in secret; more often than not, she would simply sit still and ask if she should move slightly one way or another, and on the few times she denied his request, it was typically because she thought her hair was sticking up funny or didn't like she shirt she was wearing.

He chuckled, and used the side of his finger to blend yellow and orange streaks in his drawn sky together. "C'mon Ells, can't expect to ask a question like that and not have me ask it back."

"Oh...I didn't think of that," she sighed, biting down on her lower lip.

"So...What's your first memory?" Steve asked formally, glancing at Ellie. He looked back again, and met her gaze, when he saw how she was rubbing her thumb over one of her scarred wrists; a habit she had when she was anxious. "Remember what we talked about? I won't tell anybody."

"I-I know..." Ellie trailed off, looking into the sunset.

Steve had gone back to his sketch when Ellie spoke. "Pain."

"What was that?"

"My-My first memory..." Ellie explained farther, still standing in the sand, holding her thin stick of driftwood as she looked into the setting sun. "Pain."

Steve was a little shocked. "Hey, c'mere," he said gently, putting his drawing aside and wiping his hands on the towel so he wouldn't get any colored dust on Ellie's pale green sundress, or her fair skin. Ellie quickly fell to his side, and put her head on his shoulder. Steve did the natural thing, and wrapped an arm around her while he examined her expression. "Wanna talk about it more?"

"I have before," Ellie frowned, glancing up at Steve. "Nobody believed me."

"Well, I'll believe you," Steve promised.

"In my very first memory, I-I'm falling, in the beginning," Ellie began. "It was like I was flying...Then it was like I hit the ocean...I was still falling, but there was so much pain...Like I was being ripped apart, cell by cell."

There was a soft crackling sound, which alerted Steve. He glanced around briefly, before he looked at the stick Ellie had been using to draw in the sand. It had been about three feet long, and maybe an inch around. Now, before his eyes, the breeze seemed to carry the stick away like it was dust. He watched for ten more seconds, and then Ellie's fist was limp on her knee, having nothing to grab onto.

"Then it just stopped," the brunette admitted. "It stopped, and when I could open my eyes, I was in a dark, cold place."

Steve sighed, and squeezed Ellie's shoulders, bringing her just a little closer. "The cell Anna found you in."

When other people looked at Ellie, they saw the unstable humanoid being that had immeasurable power and a damaged psyche. But when Steve looked at her, he saw a pretty young woman who nobody had bothered to get to know; her human personality was ignored completely, which was something Steve could relate to.

"No, it was a cave, actually," Ellie corrected him softly.

"Oh...Yeah, you were in Siberia before she found you," Steve mumbled, holding her close. She was such a sweet, good person. How anybody could lock up such a gentle person made Steve want to hunt them down and lock them up. But Anna had killed them all, so he didn't dwell on the thought much.

"No...No, the cave was before Siberia," Ellie practically whispered.

Steve pulled back a little to look at Ellie's face. Her green eyes looked a little guilty, and she would only look at him with quickly glances as she played with the hem of her sundress. "There's nothing in any of your files saying that you were, well, _anywhere_ , before Siberia."

"I've only told a couple people, two different psychiatrists Professor Xavier sent me too...Anna and Kara don't even know," Ellie admitted. "It's not in my file because they didn't believe me."

"What did you tell them?"

There was a long pause while Ellie contemplated telling Steve what she remembered about her life before Anna found her in the cement box. It wasn't until Steve's strong, large hand wrapped around hers that she managed to speak again.

"The-The cave was pitch black...I only found the exit because there was a lot of noise coming from the other side of the big rock they put in front of it."

"They blocked the exit of the cave with a rock?" Steve asked, shocked. He knew a lot of what people in the world were capable of, but what Ellie was telling him seemed so _barbaric_.

She only nodded in response to his question. "They didn't know what I was, so they threw me in a cave and rolled a boulder in front of the only way out...Apparently, they had tried to kill me before that, but I wouldn't die...They shut me up in the cave hoping I would starve."

"How-?...How'd you get out?"

"Someone else opened it up," Ellie said simply. "I think I was in there a long time, because the people who took me out of the cave had weapons and tools I'd never seen before."

"Like what?" Steve asked, curious.

"They were the ones who told me what a bow and arrow was," Ellie mumbled, still playing with the hem of her dress.

Steve was in complete and utter shock. If his memory served him, he recalled a conversation with Kara not long after he got out of the ice. It was about the history and evolution of weapons. She had said offhandedly that she remembered when the Egyptians first began using the bow and arrow in battle; around _3,000 BC_.

"When-When you were shut in the cave, you-you'd never seen a bow and arrow before?" Steve somehow stammered out.

"No," Ellie said, just a breath. "To-To be fair, I-I didn't know what _anything_ was...I didn't know who _I_ was..."

"That-That- _Ells_ , that would mean you're almost-"

"Almost six thousand years old," she finished for him, not making eye contact with Steve, who could only sit and stare at her in amazement.

"Hey, stop that," Steve said gently, grabbing her wrists, as she had begun to rub harshly at her scars, leaving angry red lines along the sensitive skin. He held her hands, and waited for Ellie to look at him.

"I-I don't want to talk about this anymore," she whispered, pinching her eyes shut as tears filled them.

"You don't have to," Steve said softly, hugging her close. Ellie grasped his strong upper arms as she tucked her head under his chin. She could feel his beard press to her head through her hair as he leaned his cheek to the top of her head.

"I-I'm not human," she whimpered, choking in sobs as Steve rubbed her back gently. "Prof-Professor Xavier said-said that mutants were like-like humans but-but different...Hu-Humans don't live as long as I have!"

Steve couldn't think of anything to say to her. He wanted to comfort her; make her feel safe. He couldn't do much when it came to her harnessing her vast abilities, but Steve sure as Hell could try his damnedest to protect her from any physical harm that threatened her. The fact that Ellie had so rarely felt safe only made him want to do this more, but how could he make her feel safe when she didn't even know what she was?

"You know, I don't care if you're-...If you're human or not," Steve managed to say.

There were a few beats of silence. "...You-You don't mean that...You-You just want me to stop crying."

"No, I do mean it," Steve repeated, holding her tighter. "Kara's not human, Bruce and Anna aren't totally human, Vision's a robot, Thor is a _god_ of all things, and, when you think about it, I'm not a typical human either, at least, I'm not an _original_ human..."

Ellie stayed silent. "I-I wanted to tell you before, but I was scared you wouldn't like me after."

Steve managed to smile a little. "Ells, you could be a _munchkin_ for all I care, and I'd still like you just the same."

The silence stretched on, and it began to worry Steve. That is, until Ellie's mumbled response came through his shirt. It made him smile.

"I practically _am_ a munchkin with how big you are."

Slowly, Ellie leaned away from Steve, just enough to see his face. She smiled a little, though her face was still a little red, and remained damp and shiny from tears. Before she could raise her hands to dry her face, Steve's beat her to it. Cradling the side of her head gently in his right hand, his left thumb and fingers where brushing gently over her cheeks, catching each and every tear.

He suddenly smiled and turned a shade of pink after his right thumb moved along her face, leaving a streak of brilliant blue that stretched from the side of Ellie's nose to near her hairline. The color had been for the water in his sketch, and seemed to make her green eyes greener, which Steve already didn't think was possible.

Ellie often asked why he didn't sketch her in color. His usual answer was that he could capture her beauty better with charcoal, but that wasn't necessarily true; he could draw just as well in color as he did with graphite. Steve didn't like to draw Ellie in color because he didn't have a pencil, pastel, chalk or paint green enough for her eyes.

"What?" Ellie asked, smiling softly through her remaining tears, sniffing slightly at the end.

"I-I got some stuff on your face," he admitted bashfully.

"Oh…" Ellie said, then thought for a second. "What color is it?"

Her curious response made Steve laugh a little. "Blue…You-You have a blue streak from your nose to your hair, on the left side."

"What shade of blue?" Ellie continued to press, happily embracing a subject that wasn't about her. "Like the water, or like your eyes?"

Steve frowned a little. "I…I think they're pretty close to the same color."

"No, they're…They're very different," Ellie amended, nodding a little. "Hasn't anybody described your eyes to you before? What kind of blue they are?"

The blond thought for a moment. "Anna's called them 'baby blues' before."

"That's not what I mean…I-I mean had anybody… _Really_ described them to you before?" Ellie asked, leaning forward a little, her gaze glued to Steve's irises.

All Steve could manage to say was a simple "No."

"Can I try?" Ellie asked, a spark of excitement in her own eyes.

"Knock yourself out," Steve said quietly, eyes widening just a little as Ellie sat up on her knees, put her hands on his shoulders, and leaned her face closer to his in order to get a better view. She was silent for some time, her gaze flicking between his right and left eye.

"They…They are actually hard for me to describe in one word," Ellie said quietly, her brows furrowing slightly in concentration. "They're not just blue…It's more than that..."

"Just…Just try describing it to me," Steve urged her gently. "Tell me…Tell me what kind of blue my eyes are."

One thing that Steve couldn't deny, was how much Ellie's way with words attracted him. It pulled him in and made him want to never hear anyone else but her speak, so he might commit each and every word and pronunciation to memory.

"Imagine..." Ellie began, then paused. "Imagine all your fears, doubts, anxieties, stresses, responsibilities, noises, irritations, pain, heat, hunger, and discomfort crumbling away. Their dust blows away in a cool breeze. You turn your face toward it, and squint your eyes as it sighs and swirls around you…

"Your sadness, your longing for the past; they things don't crumble like the others, but are softened by the breeze. They turn to liquid, and flow through your fingers before spilling into your soul, strengthening you. You're eyes are just like you…true and steadfast…

"Sometimes, when you've decided you've had enough, you go to the edge of the abyss in your head, and you let out such a powerful scream that the very ground beneath you shakes, forcing your negative feelings out and into the air…They rise up into the sky and become clouds which open up into a rain that not even I have a prayer of describing…The drops pound the ground, and fill the abyss to the brim, breaking it from the inside out, and the raindrops, free of the confines, flow freely in to a mighty sea that laps at your feet…

"When you think you have let out every last bellow in your body, a mighty wave washes over you, drenching you with tranquility and leaving you in silence only broken by the sea you've created…Your breathing syncs with the waves in a steady rhythm and your lungs are cleansed by the fresh sea air…You're free of worries then, and you know you will be able to overcome anything that threatens your sea or those living on its banks…

"Your eyes…You're eyes are the space between the sky and the horizon, that so very few people know to look for...Its the color of a pumping heart, pounding a bruise on your chest…The color of a soft breath on your neck, and the shiver that follows. It's the color of anticipation, desire, and passion that overtake your mind for only one minute, before a breeze of euphoric calm washes over you and you can see clearly for the first time in weeks… They are the color your heart turns when you feel a lump in your throat that grows from nervousness, and your brain fails you in nearly every way.

"They…They embrace those who look into them, and hold them tight in a blanket of safety and kindness that they've never felt before. They don't let people on to the pain you've endured, but that pain given them a hue of empathy and a blaze of endurance that assures everyone that you care…"

The eyes Ellie was describing had fallen shut only a few sentences into the description, and stayed shut for a few moments after she stopped speaking. This allowed Ellie to take a brief moment to admire the long, thick eyelashes Steve had been blessed with, and the golden hue his skin had taken after a few weeks in the sun. Slowly, Steve opened his eyes, and they just gazed and Ellie in near awe.

"That-That's the kind of blue you're eyes are, Steve," Ellie managed to get out under the intense blue gaze.

There was a long pause, and Steve couldn't seem to make his mouth open to speak. When he did, he let out what he thought was among the stupidest he could have said. "I-I think that was the most beautiful thing that anybody has ever said in the history of civilization."

The compliment made Ellie's cheeks flush a deep pink, and she ducked her head. "Thank you."

"You're…You're really, _really_ welcome, Ellie," Steve responded, his voice a little more rough and a pitch lower than it typically was, which made Ellie blush deeper. As she felt it bleed down her cheeks, trickle down her neck and overflow to her ears, Steve spoke up again. "Ells—Can-Can I-?"

"Can you what?" Ellie asked in such an oh-so-innocent and gentle way that Steve almost felt guilty for what he wanted to ask.

 _Almost_.

"Can I kiss you, Ellie?"

Thoroughly surprised and flooded with an intense shyness, Ellie could only gasp softly as he mouth fell open. Briefly terrified that he shouldn't've asked such a thing, Steve looked at the woman he had been callin' _his gal_ in his head for weeks now, with poorly hidden anticipation.

The sun had set some time ago, forever leaving Steve's sketch unfinished. The artist was sitting with one leg stretched out in front of him, and the other was bent up at the knee, with his torso turned towards Ellie, who was on her knees next to him. Her nose was just about level with Steve's with her up on her knees, and her hands were still on his shoulders.

The captain was just about to burst out that he was sorry, he didn't mean it, or that he was joking, but Ellie answered just in time.

"Yes, Steve…You-You can kiss me."

* * *

 _ **Meanwhile, in Spain…**_

It was pure luck that Jamie was bored enough to look at his security camera screen when three black SUV's were shown breaking down the gate at the front of the three mile long driveway.

"Miss Lena?" Jamie called out, heaving himself up from his chair.

"Sí Señor Jamie," the young Spanish woman answered, quickly entering the room the elderly man resided in, and helped him stand. Lena's mother was a part of Jamie's first staff when he arrived in Spain. When she became pregnant, Jamie bought her a comfortable home, and paid for Lena to go to college when her mother died. She proudly became a nurse, and had been working for Jamie since she graduated.

"Sweetheart, would you get Margarita and Sofia, and go down to the theater room in the basement?" Jamie asked calmly, while he stretched out the parts of his mind he hadn't used for more than turning on a coffee maker in years. "Lock the door behind you."

Lena looked up and her kind benefactor and boss in shock. The theater room was just like the name sujested, but doubled as a virtual bomb shelter and safe room.

"Se-Señor Jamie, why would we-"

"Oh, don't be stubborn, Lena," Jamie said fondly, putting a hand in her glossy hair before pressing a kiss to the forehead of girl he thought of as his own daughter. "Go on now, sweetheart. Quickly."

Once Lena was off running through the villa for the two maids, Jamie calmly picked up his iced tea and walked out of his office and through the house. His footsteps echoes through the hallway, only making the situation more ominous. The technopath calmly left the safety of his home, and sat on one of his whicker rocking chairs on his porch.

Mere seconds later, the three SUVs that broke through his gate stopped in his drive.

Five men exited out of one SUV, and five more from another. The third one deposited two more men onto Jamie's driveway. They were all armed to the teeth. The third SUV also produced a dangerous looking woman with dark hair, and an older man in a linen suit, and a collared shirt with a few buttons undone at the top.

"I would point out that you're on private property, but considering what you did to my gate, I'm going to assume you're very aware of where you are," Jamie said once the older man was fully out of the SUV.

He chuckled slightly, and smoothed a hand over his groomed silver hair. "You would be right, señor," he said, a Hispanic accent in his voice. After living in Spain for decades, Jamie knew the man wasn't from Spain; somewhere in South America was much more likely.

"That was original to this house, you know," Jamie said, frowning slightly at the young woman standing close to the man; she'd been driving. "It'd cost a pretty penny to replace."

"My apologies," the man said, sounding oddly sincere. "I will make it the top objective of my… _employees_ , to find a suitable replacement, I give you my word."

Jamie simply made a 'Hm' sound and took another drink of his iced tea. "You already said you're right where you wanna be…Am I to assume you know who I am?"

"Yes, Señor Dean," the unnamed man said with a smile, putting one hand in his pocket while the other moved in the air while he spoke, and took a few steps closer; the girl moved with him. "I would be remiss if I did not tell you what a fan I am of your films."

"You know who I am, so I assume you know what I am capable of," Jamie responded, letting the flattery roll right off his back. The girl quickly put an arm in front of the man, stopping him from getting any closer to the porch. Jamie hid his chuckle by taking another drink of iced tea.

" _Maria_ ," the man said in a calm, warning tone. She frowned, but lowered her arm, but pinned Jamie with a glare.

"I apologize for my dear Maria…She is quite protective," the man said, taking another step forward.

Jamie ignored the apology. "You know, everything has a microchip in it now…Cars, phones…High-tech, automatic weapons."

"Please, Señor Dean, I did not come here to incite violence," the man said, holding his hands out to the sides slightly, which only made Jamie raise a grey eyebrow.

"Well, you got a funny way'a showin' it," the mutant said, then he saw one of the thugs kicking around his front garden, dangerously close to his favorite lawn gnome. "Hey! Watch it around the gnome! It was a gift."

The man gave a rapid order in Spanish, and the man retreated back to stand near an SUV.

"What the Hell are you doin' ruining my retirement?" Jamie asked, looking more harshly at the man as he slowly ascended the steps of the front porch.

"I'm in need of some information," he said simply. "I am trying to locate a murderer."

"Well, you got one right in front of you, _jefe_ *," Jamie said coldly; the man looked slightly surprised. "Oh, don't know everything, do you?...My body count is just under double digits, and don't think I'm above adding to the list just 'cause I'm an old man."

"Please, señor," the man asked, still very cordial and polite. "Your simple answer will fulfill a lifelong ambition of mine."

"Before I go tellin' you anything, I'm gonna need to know a little bit about the people I'm tellin' it to," Jamie said sternly.

"Of course," the man said, lowering himself into a matching wicker rocking chair near Jamie. "I am a reasonable man, willing to de reasonable things in exchange for what I desire."

"Who the Hell are you?" Jamie asked gruffly, finishing off his iced tea.

The man chuckled, and looked over his shoulder, drawing attention to the young woman who had appeared on the steps of Jamie's villa.

"My daughter, Maria," the man said, looking at her for a moment longer. "Say hello to our host, Maria."

The dark haired woman, clearly of Hispanic heritage, simply crossed her arms and straightened her shoulders. He chuckled. "I'm afraid that she does not have my manners…She is stubborn like her mother."

"Hm," Jamie said again, uninterested in Maria. "C'mon _jefe_ *, stop dodging my question. Who are you?"

The man continued to chuckle, and gave Jamie a smile that turned his stomach the wrong way.

"I am Enrico Slavic," he said simply, leaning back in his chair, and putting an ankle over his knee. "And you, Senor Dean, are going to help me find the man that killed my father."


	52. Chapter 52: After This

**Slightly fillerish and not really edited.**

 **It may suck a little, but SOMEBODY kept bugging me to post.**

 **You know who you are.**

 **Not much happens, but some REALLY COOL STUFF IS GONNA HAPPEN SOON!**

 **And some Winter Glow fluff for you all.**

 **Review and recomend this story to the other cupcakes in your batch!**

 **Love you to crumbs!  
~Christianne**

* * *

Omniscient POV

When Steve, Ellie, Kara, Bucky and Anna arrived in Hawaii, they were led by the two blonde women to a luxurious hotel, where they all had suites on the top floors. Kara was the only one bunking alone; Anna and Bucky obviously shared a bed, while Steve and Ellie shared only a suite. They kept assuring everyone that they did no in fact share a bed, their cheeks burning red as they did. It wasn't that the others didn't believe them, it was simply that teasing the couple was more fun.

Said new couple were in their suite, watching a movie to close out the day like they did during their stay in the compound in upstate New York. Anna and Kara had a few things to clear up at the nearby Navy base (both refused to tell anyone what it was about, but Bucky and Steve had a feeling it had to do with gathering some HYDRA intel), leaving Bucky alone in the spacious hotel suite. As much as he liked all the windows, showcasing the magnificent view of the ocean, he couldn't help but feel uneasy as the sun dipped lower on the horizon and the windows remained opened. There was a tiny, paranoid voice that kept insisting he shut the curtains in a panicked whisper.

As much as Bucky tried to ignore the little voice, he broke down when making a bowl of popcorn and quickly shut the blinds and shades on all the windows, even in the rooms he currently wasn't in. The panicked whispering stopped soon after, and an odd feeling of relaxation released tension that had built up in his shoulders.

Bucky shoved a handful of popcorn in his mouth, wiping the buttery smears that remained on his shorts, and chewed almost angrily, trying to rid the paranoia from his brain. He plopped on the large white sofa, and pressed the little triangle button on the remote for the television; the little triangle meant 'play.' A documentary about innovations of the 1970s began playing, and Bucky tried his best to pay attention to it. He'd been invited to watch a classic film with Steve and Ellie, but since Kara caught them necking on the beach two days before, Bucky opted to leave them be for the night, like Steve had gratefully done when he and Anna were just starting out.

As he stared blankly at the screen, which flashed with images and video clips, Bucky couldn't help but be extremely bored. Anna told him it wasn't good for him to only watch and read about the various wars and conflicts he missed, and had suggested the documentary he had playing now. The thing was, Bucky just didn't find it that interesting. He'd come to terms that it would take him a good amount of time to fully understand all of what he missed in society, but was just fine learning as he went. After finishing his bowl of popcorn (which only took a matter of five minutes), the dark haired man grabbed the remote with his ungreasy, metal hand. Carefully going through the steps in his head, Bucky stopped the 70s documentary, and put the TV on a channel airing a special about the weapons of the Vietnam war.

The first commercial had just started when someone knocked at the door.

Bucky was on his feet and at the door in seconds, all without having made a sound. He peered through the peephole in the door to see who was there. The distorted image was of a man about Bucky's age, with his same shade of dark hair and blue eyes, but a good half a foot shorter than Bucky himself and had a nervous look about him as he shifted from foot to foot.

"Who is it?" Bucky called through the door, thought he already knew; he was giving the kid one last chance to duck out.

"Oh, uh, it-it's TJ," the tech said, from the hallway, shifting his grip on the large object he held, hugging it to his chest with both arms.

Once the door was opened, Bucky gave TJ a polite, neutral smile and held his arm out, inviting him into the suite.

"Sorry to just, you know, barge in," TJ said, awkwardly holding the thing to his chest with one arm while his other hand scratched the back of his neck and played with the fringe that fell over his forehead.

"Nah, just watchin' sumthin'," Bucky shrugged, gesturing to the TV. "Did you...Did you need something?"

"No, not really," TJ admitted. "I just-Well, we never really met properly."

"Yeah, you kept avoiding me in Jamie's house," Bucky half laughed; TJ was a funny guy. Anna told him how smart the kid was, but Bucky's idea of a person with superior intellect was based mainly off Howard and Anna, both of whom didn't fit the mold very well. TJ was an awkward guy who tried his best to come off normal, when Bucky thought it would be better for him to steer into the skid and be himself. "Sit down, make yourself comfortable. I'm gonna make some more popcorn. You want any?"

"Uh, no, thanks though," TJ mumbled, briefly examining the tactical equipment spread out over the large dining table.

"Alright pal, but I'm not sharin'!" Bucky warned with a grin, sauntering off casually to the kitchen, leaving TJ alone in the suite's main area, and unsure where he should head next.

He opted to put the object he was holding to his chest on the table behind the sofa, smoothing out the fabric covering it, though it was hardly moved out of place. He shook his leg anxiously and his left index finger began scratching his left thumbnail. He'd gotten some industrial glue on the thumbnail a day or so ago while making a circuit component, and had been scratching at it since.

"So, TJ," Bucky said, coming back into the room with a bowl of fresh, buttered popcorn in his hands. "Why'd you avoid me like a TB patient back in Spain?"

The tech just shrugged. "Dunno. Lots 'a reasons, really," he admitted stupidly.

"I'd seen you run around the place, you know, before Anna told me who you were," Bucky explained, shoving a handful of popcorn in his mouth. He chewed it quickly, swallowed, and continued to speak. "When she told me we were related, I _really_ got confused as to why you were hiding from me. Well, hiding from _everyone_. Barton wanted you for something, and couldn't find you for a good day and a half."

TJ jammed his hands in his pockets. It was an odd situation that almost made him laugh; they were related distantly, looked the same age, only one was a military hero from sixty years ago, and the other was a failed legacy.

"I don't have the best history interacting with people... _Agents_ , really," he finally answered. "I sorta got used to keeping to myself at all costs when I worked at S.H.I.E.L.D."

"Yeah, why was that?" Bucky asked curiously, chewing as he spoke. He moved to lean his hip on the back of the sofa. "Anna told me how your dad and granddad were legends there, and you used to walk around with your badge backwards or upside down or something so no one could read it."

"Easier that way, I guess," TJ sighed, his eyes looking around the room as he tried to make himself at ease. "Didn't like the comparisons."

" _Comparisons_?" Bucky repeated the word, more confused than before.

"Well, they compared me to my dad, who was...He-He was an _extraordinary_ agent, to say the least. I don't know how I can stress how valuable he was to S.H.I.E.L.D., America, and, like, countless other countries," TJ began to explain. "And when my dad was there, they compared him to my grandpa, who was instrumental in solidifying S.H.I.E.L.D. on the international stage of agencies. The S.H.I.E.L.D. my dad worked for woudn't've existed without my grandpa."

"They compare your granddad to anybody?" Bucky asked jokingly, rolling his eyes a little. He had always scoffed at the idea of 'legacies' through one organization or another, particularly in the military. There were plenty of guys he served with in the army, and met who were in the navy, who were this or that generation serving, and felt so pressured to keep it going that they cracked before their boots hit the mud of the trenches.

"You," TJ answered simply.

Bucky was clearly a little surprised at the answer. His eyes widened a little, and he didn't push the raised handful of his movie snack into his mouth like he planned to. He swallowed what he was already chewing before he spoke. "Really?"

"Well, _yeah_." It was TJ's turn to chuckle. "He's your nephew, and named after you. He worked with a lot of people who knew you, or knew of you at least, and they always said he was just like you...Said the same thing about my dad too."

"But not you?"

"Hard for them to think I was like any 'a you guys when I never went into the field or fired my weapon outside the range," TJ admitted. "I didn't go through the Operations Academy like my dad and grandpa. I didn't have my own team before I was thirty. I can't smooth talk my way past a female secretary or security guard. Can't lift twice my weight in the gym, reach the top shelves in cabinets, know which fork to use at a fancy restaurant, I only speak one fluently-Want me to keep going?"

"No...No, I get the picture," Bucky said, in deep thought. "But, you're good at all the technical, computer stuff, aren't you?"

TJ nervously rubbed the back of his neck. "I-I really don't want to talk about my family legacy now..." He mumbled, rubbing a hand down his face in near exhaustion.

Bucky swallowed his mouthful of popcorn whilst shrugging. "Alright."

"Oh, hey, I brought you something," TJ said, beginning to pull the soft felt fabric off the thick framed object. Bucky looked over his great-great-nephew's shoulder as the framed thing was pulled out and laid on the small table to be seen. His eyes widened slightly.

"So, Anna gave all the Commandos one of your medals to wear when they took down Shmidt not long after you...You know," TJ began to explain. "I called up their kids and whoever and asked for the original medals back. And-And I used a contact I still have in the Army to get all the pins and patches and stuff...Had it all put in one of the official frame, like other vets have."

Bucky was listening to TJ, but was distracted by his name stitched in yellow/gold thread in an arch over green felt. He dropped the popcorn on the table and wiped his hands on his shirt. With his mostly-clean hands, he picked up the wide, rectangular frame and just stared at it. He'd never seen all his medals and pins at one time before. Sure, he knew what he'd been awarded, but he always kept them in the boxes at the bottom of his trunk. It was clear which of the medals and pins were new and which ones were old. Some ribbons were a little frayed and the metal slightly tarnished, while others were pristine and brand new. Most he recognized, but a couple he didn't.

"Looks official," Bucky found himself mumbling, just looking at the frame with a near blank expression.

"Yeah, it is," TJ said with a small smile. "I-I guess I just wanted you to know that I still really admire and respect you, even though I didn't really, uh, measure up to the legacy you started for our family."

"I don't think any less 'a ya, kid," Bucky said, distracted, eyeing the shiny surface of his expert marksman badge. It was brand new. That was the only award he really felt he'd earned and was proud of back when he got it. But one day he found it snapped in half. Well, he found _half_ of the badge at the bottom if his bag. He wanted to get a replacement, but after six months of paperwork and no badge, he gave up. Anna offered to step in and use a bit of her influence to push it through, but by then Bucky was too involved in the raids and missions to care too much about the badge. "It takes a lot more brains to do what you do than to fire a gun at a target and punch some punk in the face."

To say that TJ was shocked by what Bucky said was a bit of an understatement. Anna had always been his little emotional cheerleader when it came to his feelings of failure with his family legacy, but hearing that from Bucky Barnes himself was something he would need time to process.

"I-Uh...I-I just wanted to drop that off for you..." TJ said, distracted, already inching towards the door. "There-There are a few things I need to do, so...I-I'll just let myself out."

"See 'ya later, pal," Bucky mumbled, still staring at the frame.

It was amazing how his entire military career could be condensed into one frame.

* * *

"What do you think we're going to do after this?"

Bucky's question broke the silence that had fallen over him and Anna as they laid curled up in the large fluffy bed that they shared in their suite. The blonde was curled against his side, tracing patterns through the material of his t-shirt with one finger.

"What do you mean?" Anna asked, keeping a calm, relaxed, half-asleep tone to her voice. But, it was hard not to be calm and relaxed when Bucky was playing and twirling his fingers through her curls as they were splayed across the pillow her head rested on.

"After...After we stop fighting," Bucky clarified, gazing lazily out the window.

"Oh," Anna responded in the same tone.

"I mean, we-we're not going to be fighting forever...Are we?"

There were a few beats of silence.

"Honestly, I never really thought about it," Anna sighed. "Until you came back, I never really thought I'd ever stop fighting...There's always some new bad guy out there that needs to be dealt with."

"What about back then, during the war?" Bucky asked curiously, his voice still quiet and even. "What did you think would happen after, back then?"

"I don't really remember, actually," Anna said honestly. "I was so consumed with everything that was going on...In the back of my mind, I just kept telling myself that if we got out alive, everything would be ok."

Nothing was said for a few moments.

"What about you?" Anna mumbled, tracing patterns idly on his t-shirt clad chest. "What did you have planned way back then?"

Reluctantly, Bucky began to answer, buying time by sighing loudly. "I bought that house upstate for a reason, Glow."

More silence.

"I wanted to fix it all up for us...Once the house was good, I'd fix up that barn and paint it red...Get some horse, maybe a few chickens..." The brunet sighed, nuzzling his nose in his gal's blonde hair. "I just wanted a quiet, normal life together...The kind where we could sit on the porch and drink iced tea while we watch the sunset and listen to the radio."

"...That sounds nice..." Was the reply he got.

"Think we could ever have that, darlin'?"

"Bucky...Sweetheart, I love you just the same, but I'm hardly the same person anymore."

"Nah, you've changed, sure, but you're still the same Annie Brightman I fell in love with...Just have a better handle on guns 'n stuff."

"I don't know if I could do that."

Bucky went silent.

"I want to," Anna added quickly, sitting up some, and looking down at the man who laid next to her. "Believe me, I want to. Sitting on a porch with you at sunset in a couple of wicker rocking chairs, that's the best thing I've heard in a long time...But, hun, as great as that sounds, I-I just don't know if I can do that...I've been fighting for so long..."

"I understand," Bucky sighed, looking up at his gal, running his flesh hand up and down the forearm Anna had out to prop herself up. His soft smile calmed Anna, and he constantly gazed at her with half-closed eyes. Her hair was puffed up from sleep and all flung over to one side of her head, and the neckline of the loose, over-sized t-shirt she wore as pajamas was skewed greatly to on side, baring nearly her entire left shoulder. "And that's ok."

Anna raised an eyebrow. "Is it?"

"'Course it is," Bucky chuckled, cracking a grin. "When have I ever been upset with you? I mean, really upset with you, not just annoyed or something when you hog the covers at night."

"I _do not_ hog the covers," Anna shot back, trying to hide her smile whilst also trying to glare at Bucky.

Her beau responded by grabbing Anna around her waist, pulling her close and rolling around the bed with her. She laughed uncontrollably as she tried to wiggle out of his grasp, but it wasn't letting her go. Through his smile, Bucky put sloppy kisses all over Anna's hair, face-basically anywhere he could reach. They continued until Anna loudly yelled out that she surrendered, making Bucky grin in triumph.

He let her go, but kept her close. Bucky played the role of the big spoon while they gazed leisurely out the open window of their hotel suite. The waves could be seen crashing onto the beach, which had very few people on it due to the time.

"We're gonna be ok," Bucky mumbled into Anna's curls. It wasn't really a question, but had slightly too much inflection to be a mere statement.

Anna responded by taking his flesh hand and kissing his knuckles, before tucking it under her chin. "We always seem to end up ok." Her answer had the same slight inflection on the end, making it sould just as Bucky's did.

The two lovers remained in bed all morning and until early afternoon, just talking and being in each others presence. There was only one thing they didn't talk about during their hours under the sheets that day; how well they both knew their future was incredibly uncertain.

* * *

While the long-time lovebirds were cuddling in bed all morning, Steve and Ellie opted for a slightly more adventurous morning. They went out for breakfast, and were currently sitting on the patio of the beach-side hotel. The sun was right in the middle of the sky, so the pair wasn't too keen on going out on the beach. Ellie was comfortably sitting cross legged in her chair, while Steve was leaning back in his on the other side of the table.

The blond captain was taking his time as he leisurely drew the beautiful expanse of the beach and ocean. Instead of the high-quality drawing materials he'd procured while in Spain, Steve was using a much more familiar medium; _pencil on napkin_.

The previous night, Ellie had a bought of unsettling dreams, causing her to latch onto both Steve and her leather bound poetry notebook since she woke up that morning. She was in a near daze as she let her hand fly across the heavy pages; her pen leaving elegant, loopy lettering in its wake.

The sound of Steve's phone came, causing Ellie to jump slightly. After giving her a slightly amused smile, paired with a soft squeeze to the hand, the captain answered the phone. Ellie continued to write without fully comprehending what she was putting down on paper.

"Hello?...Hey, Jamie, I wasn't expecting to hear fro-...What do you mean?" Steve's demeanor went from pleasantly surprised, to alert, focused and a bit worried. "Is everyone alright?...Really? What'd he want?...Good God, Jamie, do you want us to come back?...I'll tell 'er..."

There was a longer pause, which made Ellie glance up at Steve. Even though his hair was different, and he had a decent start to a beard on his face, Ellie could see the muscles in his jaw work and his eyes sharpen as he heard something he didn't like. His expression was reminisce of what he looked like in mission briefings. Ellie returned to her poem, and took the time to read it fully for the first time.

Her eyes widened and her heart dropped into her stomach.

Steve ended his phone call and gave a heavy sigh. He rubbed a hand down his face, and idly thought how he'd have to shave.

Before he could say anything, Ellie spoke up.

"Something bad is going to happen," she said softly, glancing at Steve from across the table.

He looked at her with a questioning look. She sounded so sure of what she was saying; it was like she already knew what Jamie had told him, and every subsequent action that would need to take place. Hell, Ellie sounded like she knew how it all would end.

"What makes you so sure, Ells?" Steve asked, purposefully using his nickname for her. What he just found out through the phone call was anything but good, and he needed to relax just a bit to process it correctly. His new favorite way to take his mind off, well, whatever he was thinking, was to watch Ellie's cheeks when he called her 'Ells.' They immediately turned a dark pink, and she involuntarily bit down on her lower lip to keep from smiling.

"I'm never wrong," she responded, turning her notebook around and pushing it across the table towards Steve.

Once the notebook was in front of the blond, Ellie reached over and tapped the top of a page with a freshly-penned poem on it. Steve glanced at her, and saw the unsettling expression on her face; equally calm and terrified.

 _Though I go off to war,  
_ _I will not be alone in this fight.  
_ _I know my friends are beside me,  
_ _Even when concealed by night.  
_ _My body scarred, my mind defeated,  
_ _Only my soul is left to take.  
_ _But I know my friends are just behind me,  
_ _And together, this journey, we take.  
_ _While all the others turn and run,  
_ _My friends and I, we hold steady.  
_ _Because only we know, it had only just begun._


	53. Chapter 53: TJ

**Oh my God my life feels like its going through a washing machine. I can't explain it further than that; but its a very apt description.**

 ***sigh***

 **Here's the chapter. Be kind to me my cupcakes.**

 **Love you to crumbs,**

 **Christianne**

* * *

Anna POV

The only sounds in the room were the soft pats of my feet on the stone floor, and the breathing of the people around me. Now and then, the ice of a glass clinked as it was tipped back for a drink, followed seconds later by the sound of the glass hitting the tabletop again.

"Anna, what are you-"

"Shut up!" I snapped, cutting Kara off. I continued to pace around; four measured, slow strides followed by a sharp turn on my heel. "I'm thinking."

The Valkyrie fell silent, and I pinched my eyes closed.

It'd been forty-five minutes since Steve and Ellie urgently told us all about Jamie's call. The technopath was calling from a hospital in Barcelona; he'd overexerted himself with his mutation, and put himself in a coma for a little more than three days. He was alright, thank God, but what he had to say was enough to make me break the lovely coconut I was drinking out of against the metal table Bucky and I were sitting at. Once I got back to Steve and Ellie's suite, I'd put myself on the terrace and began pacing while grabbing harshly at my hair. After a brief explanation of who Enrico Slavic was, everyone turned to Anna for what to do next.

"Annie _enough_!" Bucky finally snapped at me, getting up from the back of the chair he was leaning on. He walked towards me and grabbed my shoulders, stopping me from pacing. "I've seen you like this before, back in London, and the only thing that helped was actually talking your thoughts through, because otherwise they're just bouncing around in your head and crashing into one another."

I just blinked up at him.

"So, tell us Annabelle Brightman," Bucky said, letting my shoulders go and taking a few steps back. "What's our first step?"

It took me a moment or two to clear my thoughts enough to make a coherent sentence, but I pulled myself together. "We need TJ."

* * *

Omniscient POV

As this was going on, the tech in question was hastily throwing some things in a small duffle bag; he was only going to be gone a day, two at most, so he didn't need much. When the duffle was zipped, he threw it by the door, then slung his backpack over his shoulders. TJ stood in front of the mirror on the back of the closet door, and briefly examined his appearance; he was still a willowy young man, on the short side, with boyishly rounded cheeks, scruffy brown hair that draped over his forehead, a sharp nose, and shockingly deep, blue eyes.

TJ sighed to himself, and cynically muttered the words his prom date snapped at him whilst half-drunk at an after party during her slurred break-up speech; "This is as good as it's gonna get."

With another sigh, he pushed a pair of glasses onto his face; they were square with black plastic frames, and an integral part of his persona of 'Eric Smith.' Truth be told, Eric was less of a persona, and more of a cover identity that had taken on a life of its own. It was the only one TJ would use when visiting Zoya; sure, he could use a different identity when he flew to see her, and just use Eric to enter the facility, but this way if anybody looked into the people visiting the residents, Eric Smith wouldn't have just appeared in Canada with no trace of a flight, a necessity since he lived in Hawaii.

Grabbing his duffle bag from the floor, he kissed his Great-Gran goodbye and promised to be back in no less than three days. Rebecca told him to take his time and give Zoya her best. He took the back stairs to get to the drive way, dodging his father and grandfather, but stopping by to let his mom know he was leaving. She gave him a tin of Russian Tea Cakes for Zoya, and made him promise not to eat them all on the plane.

With his goodbyes said, and his dad and granddad avoided, TJ got into his car (a clunker he and a friend from the academy rescued before it could be crushed for scrap) and began the drive to the airport.

* * *

"Hey Clarry!" Kára said cheerfully, bouncing into the kitchen of Rebecca's home with a grin on her face. "Got anything good for me to try?"

Clarisse, TJ's mother was, along with one of the best cryptographers S.H.I.E.L.D. had, a near gourmet-cook. The middle-aged woman laughed at the antics of the Valkyrie and handed her a chocolate chip cookie while she perched herself on the counter. The two women were quite close. Of course Anna adored Clarisse ("Any girl loved by JJ is loved by me"), but it was Kára and the cryptographer who really hit it off. It mostly had to do with their similar personalities; hot tempered, hungry for people to prove wrong and a little too blunt at some times.

"So where's that kid of yours?" Kára asked, mouthful after having taken a bite of the gooey, warm chocolate chip cookie. "Anna needs him for something."

After sighing once, Clarisse put down the spatula she was using to transfer warm cookies to a plate. "TJ went to see Zoya," she began simply. "You might be able to catching him before he gets on his flight. Anna would have to drive, though, 'cause he's flying as his favorite Smith, who has Pentagon roots—he flies military almost every time and you knows those dark flights don't always keep to their schedules."

"Thanks Clarry!" Kára said, licking some stray melted chocolate from her thumb before hopping off the counter.

"Hey, you keep me in the loop, got it?" Clarisse said, her tone drastically different from the conversational, motherly tone it had been only moments before. "I may not have seen any field work during my stint in the agency, but JJ taught me how to hunt on a double barrel shotgun and I'm a crack shot."

"Yeah yeah yeah, I'll keep you in the loop," Kára said with a smile, waving a hand at her friend as she scooped up another two cookies. The Valkyrie was mildly shocked when the human woman grasped her forearm and pulled her away from the door slightly to look her dead in the eye.

"Is James in danger?" She asked in a low voice. She only called TJ by his given first name when she was truly worried about him.

Kára, a being without a maternal bone in her body (since she was supposed to be a virgin for her entire existence) had always had a hard time understanding the bond parents had with their children. But having known Clarisse since she got with JJ, Kára understood just well enough to express a small amount of empathy for the mother, but make it look like she completely understood. She put her hand over Clarry's and squeezed it gently.

"Anna doesn't seem to think he, or any of you, are in any danger," Kára said honestly, giving a small smile. "And before you start spouting that I'm just saying that to make you feel better, I have wings on my back now so a shot to the back with a double barrel would do a lot more damage than it would have before!"

* * *

"Hold on, I found his car," Kára said into her phone, making Anna on the other line groan.

After leaving Rebecca's home, the Valkyrie got in her own car and blew past speed limit signs as she followed TJ's path to the military base. Halfway there, Anna called her. Hanging up on her longtime friend, Kára slammed her foot on the break, causing the highly expensive car to skid to a stop, her front bumper only inches away from TJ's rusted back one.

The Valkyrie was expecting to see TJ in the front seat on the phone with one of his gaming friends, or blushing hard as he spoke to Helen Cho via Skype. What she saw instead, though, made her begin to doubt her promise to Clarisse. There was a bloody smear on the steering wheel, like someone's head was smashed into it, a broken pair of glasses on the dash, and two packed bags undisturbed in the back seat.

Kára didn't have to look at the screen to know it was Anna angrily calling her back to yell at her for hanging up, no doubt. "Yeah, it's his car," she answered simply, frowning at the door, which was slightly ajar. "We have a bit of a problem."

* * *

Bucky had seen and been by his Glow's side as she went through countless different situations; he knew her expressions like the back of his hand. But the one she wore currently both intrigued and shocked him. Anna was standing in the middle of Rebecca's basement, arms crossed and her hip cocked to one side. Her finger was tapping on her bicep as she stared at the wall that would soon be hosting the video call that, as JJ said, 'might start World War III.' Her face was emotionless as Ellie fluttered over the computer set up in the corner of the room.

The observing beau was standing directly behind Ellie, his back pressed to the corner as he watched the others move around him. He wasn't supposed to be able to be seen by the camera JJ had put up, and Steve didn't want Ellie involved more than she had to be, so the pair was banished to the corner.

"Alright," Ellie said, her soft voice not breaking the lull of whispered conversation that hung in the room. "Al-Alright!" She tried again, a frustrated little crease growing between her brows as they furrowed. Her timid nature reminded Bucky of Anna when he first met her.

A sharp whistle made everyone look towards the brunet pair in the corner. Bucky was lowering his flesh fingers from his lips, a hint of a smirk on his face. "Go on, Ellie," he said with a grin. "The floor is yours, doll."

Blushing softly, Ellie nodded once. "Alright, so, I used TJ's program to set up the beacon, and once it's answered, the video conference will begin…Is everyone ready?"

"Bring him up, Maple," JJ said, moving to stand a few paces behind Anna. Anna would have preferred Jimmy, JJ and Clarisse not be here for this, but they insisted.

Ellie nodded at JJ, but glanced to Anna for conformation. The blonde gave a stern nod, and Ellie began typing quickly, then removed her hands from the keyboard to shove them under her thighs; she was trying to keep herself from tugging on her hair.

There was silence in the room for about two minutes, before an image was projected on the bedsheet screen. A man in his fifties was sitting in a waxed leather office chair in an expensive, classy looking study. He was dressed in a fine linen suit, and had a glass of something in his hand. He had a darker complexion, black hair, and a look in his eye that made Bucky want to punch him.

" _Ah, Annabelle_ ," the man said; his voice had a lingering Spanish accent. " _I was wondering when I would be hearing from you._ "

Anna only blinked in response.

" _I would like to apologize on behalf of my employees_ ," Enrico Slavic drawled out, taking a sip from his glass. " _They are not as through in their research as I had been told they were...But their enthusiasm for the cause is admirable, so this infraction will not stunt their careers too drastically. As I see it, just because they did not procure the right man, that does not mean he will not be useful._ "

"You know me by reputation only," Anna sated in a voice that was eerily calm and deadly even; if Bucky didn't know better, he would have said that the whole situation didn't affect his Glow at all. But he saw her an hour before they started to set this up; he held her tight, stroked her hair, drew shapes into her skin and pressed kisses to her skin in an effort to calm her down. Her body was shaking and her breathing wasn't even, and Bucky _knew_ she was making herself keep the tears in. "So, you may not know that I don't care much for ten words when two will do the trick."

" _Oh, I am very aware of how direct you prefer to be,_ " Enrico said, a fond smile that made Ellie's skin crawl spread across his lips. " _But I have always found war to be so…romantic, don't you agree, Captain Rodgers?_ "

Steve was standing towards the back edge of the frame, half in the shadows, and was a little surprised when he was called out directly. He took a few steps forward, his gaze hard, and stood next to Anna on the opposite side as JJ and angled his body in an effort to hide both Jimmy and Clarisse from the view of the camera.

"Have you ever been to war, Slavic?" Steve asked; he wasn't as good at keeping his anger in check and out of his voice as Anna was.

" _Not the type you are accustomed to, no, Captain,_ " Enrico admitted easily, taking a sip of his drink.

"Then you wouldn't understand how far from romantic it really is," Steve bit back. "It's a concentration of death, and-and blood and-"

Enrico began to chuckle, causing Steve to cut himself off. Anna put a hand wordlessly on his arm in an effort to calm him when he began working his jaw.

" _Ah…I see the skills of the beautiful wordsmith known as Ellenore Maple have not rubbed off on you despite how close you've grown,_ " the older Argentinian man said, clearly amused.

Bucky heard Ellie inhale sharply, and she sat up straighter, when she was mentioned. He frowned, and moved so he was now leaning on the front of the desk she was seated at, slouching down some as he crossed his arms, allowing his broad shoulders block most of Ellie from view, even if he could potentially be seen. Ellie peeked at the scene before her from under Bucky's elbow.

"She's not even a par-!"

"Enough!" Anna half yelled, making Steve look at her with wide, outraged eyes and softly shakings hands that began to form fists. "Steve, stand down."

The blond captain let out a sarcastic chuckle. "Anna, how can you-?" His second attempt of speaking was cut short by Anna as well.

"I said, _stand down_ ," her tone was practically and order, and left no room for argument. The others in the room watched Captain America stare down the petite blonde woman in the center of the room, who was just as strong willed. Soon, Steve let out a harsh breath through his nose, and walked back to his original spot, giving Slavic the same disgusted look he used to give Nazis over his shoulder.

"Let's keep this between you and me from now on," Anna offered, her face was still stone, but her tone was ironically light. "Sound like a plan, Slavic?"

The man projected on the wall sighed. " _I'm afraid it is too late for that, Annabelle._ "

"What do you mean?" She questioned immediately.

" _You see, you fractured my family, taking my father from me when I was just a boy,_ " Enrico began. " _When HYDRA approached me with the opportunity to bring you to your knees, I simply could not resist…While the murder of my father, whether it be by you or by Sargent Barnes, motivates me against you, I am far from the only one who wishes to see you begging for the mercy that you never gave._ "

"Oh, you should understand better than anybody, Slavic," Anna said, finally cracking a cynical, cold smile. "Some people just don't deserve mercy."

He chuckled again. " _Oh, Annabelle, I believe, in my very soul, that if our paths had crossed in a different moment, we would have been good friends._ "

"I doubt it," Anna snapped.

There was a heavy pause, the only real sounds being the equipment in the room, and Jimmy's labored breathing. The basement was dusty, which was Hell on his aging lungs, but he refused to be left behind on the upper floors.

"I think it's pretty damn clear what I want, so why don't you just pretend to be a decent human being, and tell me what the Hell happened to my tech," Anna huffed, cocking her hip to the other side.

" _Ah, yes, James Samuel Barnes the Third…TJ, I believe he likes to be called,_ " Enrico said, as if he was recalling something that didn't really matter. " _I'm afraid that my aforementioned employees picked up the first man by the name of 'James Barnes' they found. That, I believe, is the only problem with a man passing his name down to his son._ "

"I want proof of life," Anna demanded. There was a pained whisper behind her; JJ, who'd gone to stand with his wife, had made the mistake of allowing her to hold his hand. Clarisse was squeezing so tight, she could have potentially done some real damage.

" _I have no reason to hurt the young Barnes boy,_ " Enrico said with a dismissive shrug. " _Consider him…A prisoner of war…There is only so much I can do when concerning TJ, if I am to adhere to the conventional terms of war…I am going to have to deny your request._ "

Anna chuckled once. "I'm sorry, did I _ask_ if I _can_ have proof of life? 'Cause I didn't mean to ask for it. I was going for more of a… _Give it to me or I will kill you_ tone."

Enrico chuckled at her words, though even Bucky found them a little terrifying. " _I do not currently have him at my disposal…Will you settle for another video conference in two days time?_ "

"You're not giving me much of a choice, are you?" Anna huffed, narrowing her eyes.

There was more silence, before an aged voice spoke up.

"You referred to my grandson as a prisoner of war," Jimmy said, slowly walking towards the screen, passing Anna to stand in front of her. "Which war is he a prisoner of?"

Enrico let out a whole hearted laugh at Jimmy's words. " _Why, the war I am waging against Annabelle and the original James Barnes, of course!_ "

* * *

"Thanks for coming on such short notice," Anna said, walking with Tony off the tarmac and towards the sleek black SUV she'd kept running near by.

"Well, when your god mother calls you at two in the morning and threatens you with nuclear weapons, it's in your best interest to do what she says," Tony said dryly, glancing at the blonde.

Anna laughed once, and gave a small shrug paired with a nearly nonexistent smirk. "Yeah, well, I don't have the time for convenience."

Immediately after the call with Enrico ended, Anna called Tony and threatened to nuke his Malibu home unless he came to Hawaii as fast as he could. No one on the list of trusted agents had a prayer of understanding TJ's sophisticated code, and they needed some of his software to track the video call they were going to get. Anna was the one who chose to cut her losses and call the best; Tony. She didn't take her foot off the gas while she drove them to the base of their operations; Rebecca's house. It might seem strange to run such an operation out of an elderly woman's home, but it was done for a reason. Rebecca couldn't be easily moved for her protection, so they stayed very close by _for_ her protection.

Once at the large, white, old house, Anna dashed off somewhere, and Ellie was left to lead Tony to what had been TJ's work station.

The brunette mutant greeted Tony with a polite smile, and began to lead him up the steps. She tried to make small talk, but was shut down by Tony dismissing her 'Snapple cap words' and 'fortune cookie phrases.'

When the billionaire saw the mess of homemade computers, processors and half-designed components that made him think of his bedroom as a kid. The thought of an accomplished engineer and programmer of TJ's (supposed) caliber in a set up like the one in the guest bedroom in front of him, was honestly a little sad. Before he could begin going through the actual computers, Tony needed to both clean up the work station, and see if TJ had written anything down. He dropped his bags by the door, and set to work.

Ellie, instead of leaving like Tony thought she would, she chose to sit cross-legged on the bed in the room, aimlessly paging through a book found on the nightstand.

"Don't you have a big, blond, patriotic boyfriend you could be bothering right now?" Tony asked, mildly irritated.

"Steve told me that I could never bother him," Ellie retorted without looking up. "He says I'm too small to make a scene, and my words at too pretty to do anything but distract him from what he's doing so he could listen."

Tony actually looked up dumbly and just stared at Ellie for a moment; she'd changed quite a bit since he'd seen her last. "Touché, little mutant," he responded. "What about Anna, can't you go bother her?"

"No," Ellie answered simply, picking up a dog-eared novel from the bedside table.

The billionaire gave a sigh, and looked towards the brunette contently sitting crosslegged on TJ's bed, opening up the book as she began to page through the beginning contents and forward. When she got to the first page of the first chapter, she looked back at Tony and blinked her big green eyes at him. "Am-Am I disturbing you, Mr. Stark?"

Tony narrowed his eyes, trying to find something she was doing that he could object to, and when he found none, he begrudgingly grunted out a 'no' as he continued to sort through the mess of computer components for anything remotely useful. "So, you and Capsicle, huh?"

Ellie looked up from the book with furrowed brows. "Capsicle?" She repeated questioningly.

"Yeah, you know, Steve," Tony further explained, trying to make mind-numbing conversation with Ellie as he sat down at the computer, finally starting to go through the files on the computer itself.

"Oh…Why did you call him Capsicle?" She asked in her curiously innocent voice; the one that Steve thought was endearing, but made Tony roll his eyes.

"It's like 'Captain Popsicle,' 'cause he was frozen, you know?" Tony explained with a bored shrug.

Ellie let out a soft 'Oh,' followed by an amused giggle, and shook her head. "Yes Steve and I are…Well, we haven't talked about it, but we're not _just friends_ anymore. I don't _think_ we are anymore, at least."

"Wow…That doesn't sound like _anything_ I want to know or talk about," Tony sighed in a conversational tone.

"I never said we had to talk at all," Ellie responded in the same type of neutral tone, turning her attention to the book. "I just want quiet company and everyone in this house is being loud and nervous…I shouldn't be around all the noise and anxiety…Steve is really busy and since I've been expanding my powers, they're getting harder to control."

Tony responded by a grunt that somewhat resembled the sound 'hmph' while he continued to tap away on the keyboard.

A few moments later, the billionaire let out a few huffed curse words and lifted up the keyboard. It was on top of stacks of labeled hard drives that Tony had missed, making him groan. TJ was the least organized programmer Tony had ever seen; himself included.

A hard drive in the middle of the stack made him stop. A few pieces of white tape were unevenly across the slim black rectangle.

 _ **a.l.i.c.e. ai program**_

 _ **for tony stark**_

"Hey," Tony said over his shoulder, looking at Ellie engrossed in the book she'd taken from TJ's nightstand. She'd moved so her back was against the headboard, and her knees were up to her chest; she was also completely absorbed in the novel.

Frowning, he tried again. "Hey, you with the book and Bambi eyes!" he snapped, frustrated that in a nearly silent room, Ellie was essentially ignoring him.

"I was just finishing the paragraph, Mr. Stark…I would have answered you in just a few seconds," Ellie frowned.

Tony rolled his eyes. "You know what this is?" He asked, holding up the labeled hard drive.

"Oh, TJ made that for you," Ellie explained, leaning forward from her position against the headboard, letting her legs fall into a crosslegged position. She put her finger in the book to keep her place as it was closed in her lap. "He heard you complaining about how you don't like the interface on your suit that much after Vision came along and…Well, he said that Vision 'took J.A.R.V.I.S.' voice.' He reformatted A.L.I.C.E. using your original interface program."

Tony raised a brow. "Really?" He asked, his voice filled with surprise and a heavy dose of skepticism. "And why would he take the time to make an entire AI just to give it to me?"

Ellie shrugged, going back to her previous position. "I think he just wanted to try to make you hate him less."


	54. Chapter 54: The Beginning of Stage One

***Edit : 4/21/2017***

 **So, I know the ending of this chapter left you all guessing, and I'm a little sorry about that.**

 **But I have only one week of instruction left in my semester, and then a week of exams, so my brain is completely fried. Given all of that, I chose to re-write the very end of this chapter, adjusting it so I can forgo the sorta-thought-out plotline in favor of one that I can actually manage to think about without my brain bursting out of flames.**

 **So, I reposted this chapter. It's all exactly the same, accept the plane-scene at the end.**

 **Any questions, PM me.**

 **Sorry not sorry.**

 **I still love you all, my cupcakes!**

* * *

 **So, all you wonderful cupcakes, I am in a fantastic mood!**

 **I'm in Chicago.**

 **My hotel is right on Michigan Avenue.**

 **I have a badass view of the city 'cause I'm on the 38th floor.**

 **And I saw Hamilton today. Yup, that's right, I SAW HAMILTON AND IT WAS SO AMAZING AND I CAN'T STOP THINKING ABOUT HOW AMAZING IT IS!**

 **Anyhoo, here's the chapter! I'm not gonna lie, it gets kinda intense. In a way. I don't know. *shrug***

 **Leave a review for a faster update! ;)**

 **~Christianne**

* * *

 _ **Previously…**_

" _I think it's pretty damn clear what I want, so why don't you just pretend to be a decent human being, and tell me what the Hell happened to my tech," Anna huffed, cocking her hip to the other side._

" _ **Ah, yes, James Samuel Barnes the Third…TJ, I believe he likes to be called,**_ _" Enrico said, as if he was recalling something that didn't really matter. "_ _ **I'm afraid that my aforementioned employees picked up the first man by the name of 'James Barnes' they found. That, I believe, is the only problem with a man passing his name down to his son**_ _."_

" _I want proof of life," Anna demanded._

" _ **I have no reason to hurt the young Barnes boy**_ _," Enrico said with a dismissive shrug. "_ _ **Consider him…A prisoner of war…There is only so much I can do when concerning TJ, if I am to adhere to the conventional terms of war…I am going to have to deny your request**_ _."_

 _Anna chuckled once. "I'm sorry, did I ask if I can have proof of life? 'Cause I didn't mean to ask for it. I was going for more of a…_ _ **Give it to me**_ _or_ _ **I will kill you tone**_ _."_

 _Enrico chuckled at her words, though even Bucky found them a little terrifying. "_ _ **I do not currently have him at my disposal…Will you settle for another video conference in two days time?**_ _"_

" _You're not giving me much of a choice, are you?" Anna huffed, narrowing her eyes._

 _There was more silence, before an aged voice spoke up._

" _You referred to my grandson as a prisoner of war," Jimmy said, slowly walking towards the screen, passing Anna to stand in front of her. "Which war is he a prisoner of?"_

 _Enrico let out a whole hearted laugh at Jimmy's words. "_ _ **Why, the war I am waging against Annabelle and the original James Barnes, of course!**_ _"_

* * *

 **Two Days Later**

Omniscient POV

Bucky was experiencing a strong feeling of déjà vu; in the basement of Rebecca's house, members of the Barnes' clan, Ellie, Steve, and Kara floating around as they quietly spoke among themselves, and a heavy feeling in the air that just about choked everyone on each inhale. The only differences were the absence of JJ and his wife, Anna was pacing in front of the wall that Enrico Slavic would be projected onto in less than an hour, and Tony Stark was now there.

JJ blatantly refused to let Clarisse see whatever condition their son was in, which everyone else agreed on. He bargained that he would stay with her, which finally made her agree. Anna seemed surprised by his voluntary absence, but Bucky thought it made sense; they had absolutely no idea what kind of condition TJ would be in, and should he be bloody and beaten, no parent would want to see their kid like that. Jimmy on the other hand was contently sitting on a bench along the back wall, near the door. No one dared try to make him leave.

"You're gonna wear a hole into the floor, Glow," Bucky finally spoke up, making Anna glance at him.

She let out a soft laugh, just a breath through her nose and a smile, and shook her head. "Do you know how hard I tried to keep something like this from happening?" Anna asked, a sad smile on her face.

"Keep what from happening?" Bucky asked, trying to keep engage her in conversation.

" _This_ …" she sighed, gesturing to the room around her. "One of the family members of some of the bravest men I've ever met being dragged into a world of war that was already endured for them…I kept kids out of the draft, put security on them when they were in countries that were even slightly dangerous, made sure they all got into college and graduated…All that work…"

"…And you think that this one thing with TJ just erased all that work?" Bucky asked, trying to pick up where Anna left off. She turned away and shrugged as she resumed pacing.

"Look, Annie, a gal as smart as you has to know in some way, shape or form, this isn't your fault," Bucky sighed, crossing his arm as he gazed at her pacing form. "I mean, you can feel how you feel, but you gotta know in that logical part of your brain that this isn't something you could'a controlled."

Anna shot a glance Bucky's way, before chuckling quietly to herself. "You know, it's always been annoying when you're more clearheaded and rational than me, but now, when you're recovering from your mind going through a washing machine, it's _really_ annoying."

Bucky just grinned at her, and sent her a quick wink before Kára pulled her away to ask a question.

"Alright, looks like Indigo Montoya is finally calling us," Tony called out from the computer in the corner.

"Oh, don't compare Slavic to _him_ ," Ellie complained from her spot next to Steve a few feet away. " _The Princess Bride_ is one of my favorite books; don't sully its characters by comparing them to a man who kills indiscriminately and has captured one of my friends."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, fortune cookie."

Steve would have laughed at Tony's lack of response to Ellie, had the situation been different. Ellie just had a way of bringing out the good in people, even if they didn't want it to be seen. He put his arm around his gal, and brought her closer to his side, allowing his thumb to rub Ellie's shoulder through her light cardigan.

There was a flicker, and then an image appeared projected on the wall of the basement.

" _Hello again Annabelle,_ " Slavic greeted with a polite smile. His eyes roamed his own screen for a moment before he spoke again. " _Forgive me if I do not greet you all by name. I can only assume that you are eager to observe the proof of life you so rudely demanded._ "

"Considering your guys rear-ended an unarmed tech and yanked him from his car, I don't think you can really judge us for being a little less than polite," Anna huffed, crossing her arms.

Enrico chuckled, and shook his head. " _Very well…_ " He stepped aside, and Ellie let out a quiet gasp that was quickly muffled by Steve pulling her into his chest, gently covering her mouth with his hand. As much as the action made him uncomfortable, and as much as he wanted to gasp himself, he couldn't let Slavic know how they were reacting.

The background wasn't the expensive office with the waxed leather chairs. Instead, it looked like a darkened warehouse with only a few florescent lights aimed towards the center of the frame. Enrico had stepped aside from the center of the frame, and revealed the young man in the chair behind him. Slavic stood behind the young man, and put his hands on the guy's shoulders. The man in the chair flinched at the contact.

" _As you can see, James Barnes III is alive and well, if not a little worse for wear,_ " Slavic explained, frowning as TJ squirmed beneath his hands. " _I shall allow you to speak to him without me present, but I should warn you all, that an armed associate will be here to operate the camera and to ensure that Mr. Barnes doesn't divulge any…_ _ **prudent**_ _, information._ "

With that, Slavic gave TJ's shoulder a pat, and walked out of frame. There was an echoed sound of a door closing moments later, and then silence.

"…TJ?" Anna asked cautiously. Since he'd been revealed behind Enrico, his head was hanging limply down towards his lap; his wrists were visibly tied down to the arms of the chair, and it could only be assumed that his ankles were as well.

Slowly, the head of shaggy dark hair rose up, revealing the tired face of the former S.H.I.E.L.D. tech. There was a gash in his forehead; it didn't appear too deep, but it had clearly been gushing blood, going by how much of the dried, rust-colored, stuff was on his face. His nose was visibly broken, there was a deep bruise on his cheek, and his greasy hair hung in clumps over his face. Despite all that, his blue eyes were still bright and alert.

" _Hey Anna_ ," he greeted in a dry, cracked voice, paired with a slightly pained half-grin. " _Hey…Uh, everyone else_."

"Are you alright?" Anna asked seriously, waving Kára over. "What did they do to you?"

" _Nothing out of the ordinary,_ " TJ shrugged. " _The head wound and broken nose are curtesy of my steering wheel after they rammed into me at a stop sign. Aside from that, they roughed me up a little. No broken bones, just a few bruises._ "

Anna glanced at Kára, who leaned a little closer as she moved away. "They can't keep that up...His mind only _thinks_ his body is strong enough to take a beating like that." Anna nodded slightly.

" _Could you send someone to make sure that Z-... that_ _ **Ariel**_ _is alright?_ " TJ asked, licking his dry lips. " _I was on my way to the airport to see her, and I don't know if they took any of my stuff._ "

Anna knew that 'Ariel' was the name Zoya was under in the facility in Canada, and nodded. "It didn't look like they took anything from your car, but I'll put Natasha on it. Promise."

TJ's brows furrowed, only to make the cut on his forehead open up slightly. " _Uh, Anna? Not-Not that I doubt Agent Romanov's abilities as an agent, I'm not sure that she would be the…the_ _ **best**_ _person to…interact with Ariel_."

"Trust me, TJ, Nat's got her issues with bed-side mannerisms, but she can be really sweet and gentle when she wants to be, _and_ she speaks Russian. Ariel would definitely appreciate that," Anna explained quickly, making TJ nod slightly.

There were a few moments of silence.

"TJ," Steve finally said, moving towards the screen slightly, holding Ellie's hand as he did. "You know we're get you back home, right?"

The bloody tech on the screen let out a small laugh. " _Of course I do…I may not go into the field much, but I am part of the team…I know how you guys are._ "

"Good," Anna spoke up, gaining his attention again. "Just…Just do what they say, tell them whatever they want to know, and hang-tight until we can get you out of there."

His brows furrowed again. " _Tell them—Anna, I'm not gonna do that!_ "

"What the hell do you mean you're not gonna do that?" Anna snapped at him, her tone severe and worried, and her eyebrows were raised in surprise.

" _I don't know all the details, and even if I did, I don't have a way to tell you without the very large man by the door with a gun finding out, but I know Slavic is planning a war, with you and Bucky in the crosshairs,_ " TJ explained calmly. " _I'm not there with you to help like I normally would. So…I'm gonna help you how I can_ _ **here**_ _. And the only way I can think of that I can help you here, is by keeping my mouth shut._ "

"TJ, you can't be serious!" Anna almost laughed, her eyes still wide and brows raised. "Do what I told you, alright? Tell them whatever you need to tell them so they won't hurt you."

" _No, I'm not gonna put you all in danger like that_ ," TJ said firmly, shaking his head.

" _James Samuel_ , you listen to Anna," Jimmy spoke up, standing from his seat by the door. He walked towards Anna, and stood slightly in front of her. "I don't give a damn if what she's telling you to do goes against what S.H.I.E.L.D. drilled into you head, because the only reason she's telling you to do it is that she's trying to get you back home in one piece."

" _I know, granddad, but I-_ "

"Don't argue with her, James," Jimmy said firmly, looking at the image of his grandson on the wall. "I shouldn't have to explain to you all the reasons you need to be alive, but I will if I need to."

"TJ, you know I like you, but you're not trained for this, and your body can't take the kind of stress Slavic is going to put you through," Steve spoke up, allowing Ellie to slip out of his grasp to hide behind the desk with Tony and Bucky. "You know we're going to get you home, so you just need to stay alive until then."

" _Look, you guys, the captain asked me if I knew that you were going to get me home, and I said that I knew you would…But, he didn't say that you would get me home_ _ **alive**_ _,_ " TJ said, his voice still calm.

The pause that followed felt like a weight on everyone's chest, making it hard to breathe.

"What the hell do you mean?" Kára snapped, crossing her arms. The Valkyrie didn't like the weight on her chest, and hoped TJ's explanation would make it go away.

" _It means that I don't want you guys to waste time on me,_ " TJ explained. " _Not when you have a crazy man like Slavic preparing to wage war on you and everything you believe in—Everything_ _ **we**_ _believe in._ "

The basement was in stunned silence.

The bloody tech swallowed thickly, and looked down briefly before he spoke up again.

" _Look, I know I'm a bit of a letdown, alright? I didn't meet the standards S.H.I.E.L.D. expected of me, and I've accepted that…But this is my chance to make up for all of that,_ " he paused, and looked at the reactions of the people a world away from him on the screen.

" _Slavic knows that I had a high security clearance, and know all your files like the back of my hand, not to mention all the databases I have access to—both legally and illegally. He-He's going to…He's gonna allocate a lot of resources to gettin' it outta me,_ " TJ swallowed thickly again. Just the thought about what he was going to endure was enough to make an acidic ball of fear grow in his throat and clog his airways. " _He'll be distracted with the idea of me giving him information, and won't be fully focused on whatever you're gonna do to beat him._ "

The basement was silent.

" _I know that if I had been more like grandad, or Bucky, or my dad, I-I would'a been able to do a lot more good when I was still at S.H.I.E.L.D…Hell, I would'a been able to keep myself out of this situation…_ " TJ kept going. " _But things just never worked out…But I can do this._ "

"James…TJ," Jimmy said, his voice full of sadness and a hint of regret. "You can't make a choice like this based on gossip you heard when you were working at S.H.I.E.L.D. You helped plenty, in your own way…This heroic complex you have is dangerous. You're my only grandson, and I love you dearly, but I'm afraid this isn't something your training prepared you for…This just isn't something you can handle."

"Don't tell him that."

The abrupt statement made everyone turn around and look at Bucky. He was leaning on the desk Ellie and Tony were behind, mostly covering them with his broad torso and shoulders, and looking at Jimmy with a stern gaze.

"Don't tell him he can't handle this 'cause he wasn't trained for it," Bucky explained, then paused. "Hell, you shouldn't be telling him he can't handle _anything_ just 'cause he wasn't trained for it.

Kára, whose Valkyrie past instilled in her a very serious respect for receiving proper training and preparation, let out a soft snort. It was no surprise, considering that she went through a good three hundred years of training before she was allowed to use her wings for what they were made to do. "I don't wanna make a bad situation worse, but I _have_ to ask the rational for dropping a tech into a situation where he's gonna be torn apart from the outside in."

TJ visibly flinched when Kára said the last part.

Bucky glared at the Valkyrie, and frowned a little as he looked down. "The fact that he's willing to let himself get torn apart from the outside in is proof enough that he can take it."

" _Really?_ And what's your basis for this?" Kára challenged him, cocking her hip as she crossed her arms.

There was another pause, and Bucky looked right at Kára.

"When I was in the HYDRA factory in Italy, before Steve was overseas and the Howling Commandos existed, I spent twenty-three and a half hours a day strapped to a table while who-knows-who did God knows what to me," Bucky said in a flat voice. Both Steve and Anna were surprised to hear him mention that. It was rare that he did way back in the 40s, but he hadn't brought up anything remotely close to it since he 'came back.'

"I could have stopped it all at any time, but I didn't, 'cause I knew what was at stake," he paused, and licked his lips. Then, he looked at TJ, who was wide-eyed.

"Don't get me wrong, TJ, you sayin' you'll do this is by far the _stupidest_ , _pigheaded_ , most _hero_ - _complex_ like thing anybody would ever even consider doing, but don't you doubt for a second that he could do it," Bucky said, looking at his young relative. They looked like they were only a few years apart in age, but the fact that one was nearly 100 and the other was just scratching 30. "A person can be trained 'till the cows come home, but being trained doesn't mean you're prepared for what you're gonna come up against…Nothing prepared you for…for torture."

There was a heavy pause, and TJ swallowed that ball of fear yet again. He nodded, and clenching his jaw in resolve. " _I can do this_."

"Just 'cause you have the ability to do something doesn't mean it's a good idea," Steve cut in, fixing TJ with that authoritative gaze that always got things done. "Self-preservation isn't a cowardly thing, TJ."

"' _The needs of the many, outweigh the needs of the few'_ ," TJ said, cracking a scared grin. The pause made him frown. " _Oh come on, I'm gonna be willingly throwing myself into torture, and you're all still too cool to at least_ _ **pretend**_ _to laugh at me quoting Star Trek?_ "

"I don't understand," Ellie spoke softly. Her voice was thick from seeing her close friend in such a state, and from what he was saying.

TJ swallowed again. " _What don't you understand, Ellie?_ "

"I understand that you believe that you doing this will help defeat Slavic," Ellie said, her hands running over her scars anxiously. "But…But, why do you think that we can win without you?"

She paused. "What makes you think we can function as a team like we did without your help?"

The silence came back, and TJ looked down.

" _That's the point…I help, Ellie…I just_ _ **help**_ _. I don't_ _ **do**_ _,"_ TJ spoke quietly. " _I'm not a game changer...Keeping Slavic guessing on what I know would do more than if I was there to…to tinker on a laptop._ "

Jimmy's face fell. He'd told TJ something along those lines many times whilst his grandson was with S.H.I.E.L.D. _'Quit tinkering on that laptop and go out into the world like a real S.H.I.E.L.D. agent! Earn that eagle on your shoulder, goddamnit!'_

" _Could-Could one of you get a message to Helen?_ " TJ asked shyly, his brows furrowing. " _Could you tell her that I-…That she's-…_ "

"Hey, I got you, pal," Bucky spoke up again. "I'll let her know."

TJ nodded, then looked at his granddad before wiggling in his seat to sit up straighter. It made him wince in pain, but he was really trying to express that he wasn't that hurt. " _Can you get my mom and dad?_ " he asked in a small voice, his eyes wide. " _I-I wanna talk to my family all together._ "

"Of course, TJ," Ellie finally spoke. "I'll get them right now."

" _Times up, Barnes_ ," a voice off camera said, sounding rather bored.

" _No, no no no—Hey! C'mon! Just five more min-!_ " TJ's pleading was abruptly cut off when the camera went black.

Ellie hadn't even had enough time to get halfway to the door to get JJ and Clarisse.

The silence was so heavy and profound that Jimmy could be heard breathing, and everyone could hear their own pounding hearts.

Bucky was the only one able to make a coherent sentence minutes later.

"Hey Stark," Bucky asked, gaining Tony's attention. "I-I read up on you…You were taken captive in the Eastern Desert, right?"

Tony glanced at Anna briefly for an explanation of the unknown term.

"Soldier term for what you know as the Middle East way back when," Anna answered numbly, still looking at the black screen.

"Oh…" Tony said, then blinked twice. "Yeah, I was," he answered Bucky.

"And…And you're really smart, with numbers and statistics and stuff, aren't you? I mean, at least smart enough to make a program to figure all sorts of stuff out, right?" Bucky continued, looking at the screen like everyone else.

"Yeah," Tony answered again; his voice was flat and almost hollow sounding.

"So…What's the chance that was the last time we're gonna see TJ alive?" Bucky asked, swallowing thickly.

The silence he was greeted with was more than enough to answer his question.

"What do we do now?" Ellie asked from her spot next to Steve. She was clutching onto his arm, and he was holding her tight, moving his hand on her back in an effort to comfort her after seeing her close friend in such a state.

This time, the suffocating silence was broken by Anna.

"Enrico called TJ a prisoner of war…As neurotic as he may be, Enrico follows the rules," she looked at Steve and Bucky as she continued. "And how do most POWs get home?"

The best friends glanced at each other, Bucky looking a little confused, and Steve looking apprehensive. It was Steve who answered. "You…You get your men back when you win the war."

The resolve growing around Anna made it clear she already had a plan working its way through her head, and no one would be able to stop her.

"Well, then, I guess we better start gathering the troops," Anna said, nodding once in determination, before going up the steps and out of sight.

* * *

It was at the airport early the next morning that Anna finally filled the others in on what she was planning. The sun hadn't yet rose, and everyone was already ready to listen to what Anna said. Well, _most_ were ready to listen to what Anna said.

"Slavic has romanticized the whole idea of war, so he's gonna wanna make this as close to his fantasy as he can," Anna explained as the group walked briskly over the tarmac towards the hangars of private planes. "He took TJ, which is a ballsy first move, so he's gonna be treading _very_ _lightly_ for a little bit, which means we have an opportunity to be a little more bold than normal in the first stage."

"First stage of what?" Bucky asked, easily keeping up with the blonde. Kára was on her other side, Tony close behind, and oddly enough Steve and Ellie were the ones lagging. The super-soldier was half-supporting his tired partner as she stumbled forward; Ellie was not a morning mutant, and rising from her sleep at one in the morning to be on a plane by three was taking its toll.

"War," Anna answered easily.

"My memory is a little fuzzy," Tony quipped, taking a swig of the espresso he had. "How many stages of war are there, again?"

"Three," Kára put in. "Stage one; Organization."

"Like I said, gather troops," Anna sighed, running a hand through her curly hair. "Make as many alliances as we can. Get as much firepower of every kind on our side before they get it."

"What about stages one and two?" Bucky asked; the conversation was perking up strategic parts of his mind that he didn't know he even had before.

"Stage two is insurrection and expansion," Anna explained. "Followed by stage three, decision or defeat."

The group fell silent.

"I already contacted Pietro and Emilia, they're gonna see what kind of enhanced or mutants they can find and offer them a spot in our little army," Anna began explaining. "A little note was sent to the others, letting them know what's goin' on."

"Kára, you-"

"Fly around the globe and call on favors, make allegiances and get firepower," the Valkyrie cut Anna off knowingly. She shot the brown eyed blonde a look with her blue ones and smirked. "I remember the drill…This may be the biggest war I've fought with you, but it's hardly the first."

Kára clasped Anna's hand in hers briefly, squeezing it tight, and nudging her shoulder before letting go and sauntering towards a different, smaller jet. "I think I'll start my jaunt in Thailand," she mused casually as she passed Steve and Ellie. "I could use a good coconut drink and hit 'a opium before I start trying to be _nice_ to people."

"What about us?" Steve asked, cutting his losses and picking up Ellie easily in his arms. She sighed and snuggled into Steve's shoulder as she held her like a princess, while he jogged to walk in step with Anna and Bucky. "Where are we off to?"

"You always have your home base on your own turf," Anna said with a shrug, then shot a look at Bucky. Her face softened, and a little smirk came across her lips as she glanced at Tony, who had his head tipped back to try and get every last drop of his caffeinated drink. "'Sides, it's been awhile since I've gone home."

"Home?" Bucky questioned, frowning a little as they walked to the remaining airplane. "We're goin' to Manhattan?"

"No, it's too populated and busy there for what we're gonna be doing," Anna dismissed, adjusting the bag over her arm. "And I haven't considered Manhattan my home for a _long_ time anyway."

"So where are we off to then, Anna?" Tony asked in a tired voice, lazily tossing his paper cup into a trashcan.

Anna paused, her expression turning to a softer, melancholy expression that made Bucky put a hand on her shoulder. "Call it what ever you want, but like I said, I'm goin' _home_."


	55. Chapter 55: Shooting and Santiago

**Well, here's the next chapter!**

 **I've been in a bit of a depressive lull since the end of my semester. I'm alright, just so you know, I'm just sleeping a lot and trying to get the mental energy to write back after my classes drained it.**

 **Oh! I made the Dean's List at NMU. So...That's pretty cool.**

 **Reviews are food for my fuzzy little heart, my cupcakes!**

 **Love you all to crumbs. ;)**

 **~Christianne**

* * *

Anna POV

Over the years, I've lived in many places. All sorts of houses, apartments, and other dwellings in more countries than I care to count right now. I liked some more than others, like my apartment in Brooklyn, or the sweet little beach house I owned in Havana; you could just step right out the door and have your feet in the sand.

But when I thought about 'home,' I thought about this place; the building in front of me. The large old estate had a terra cotta tile roof and a Spanish plaster exterior, it was _home_.

While the three people behind me unloaded the shiny black SUV, I pulled myself up onto my tiptoes, held my arms out to the sides to balance, and began walking within the mortar lines of the bricked driveway.

"Hope you have an idea of how to get inside this place," Tony spoke up. His exotic sports car had screeched to a stop on the driveway seconds ago. After shouldering his own bag, he slammed the car door shut. "Haven't had a key to this place in years."

"Don't worry about it," I said, distracted, as I began counting bricks after my left foot hit the brick with the L-shaped crack.

"Dad had shatter-proof glass put in," Tony stated, before continuing dryly with "So I hope you're not planning on breaking a window."

"Wouldn't dream of it," I responded, squatting down to my knees and pulling out my pocket knife. I ran the blade around the aged mortar around the brick (the brick ten up and six left of the cracked one), and pried it out of it's place. As I turned it over, I sighed as I looked at the shiny house key held to the brick with flaking, aged tape.

"How long has _that_ been there?" Tony asked as I peeled the tape off the brick, then stomped the reddish rectangle back into place.

I shrugged in response. "Seventies, maybe?" After unlocking the handle and deadbolt, I had to put all my weight into the door to force it open, as the old hinges creaked with disuse.

The foyer was dimly lit, thanks to the covered windows, and the air was stagnant. Thankfully, there was very little dust, and only the stray cobweb here and there. The floor was still shiny, and the massive staircase still dominated the room.

"Nice place," Steve commented, walking in behind Tony. "Howard always had good taste."

"Yeah...Good and expensive," Bucky sighed, smiling slightly. "Where should we toss this stuff, Glow?" He asked, nodding to the heavy duffle bags he and Steve carried with ease.

"Uh...Through that hallway. Living room's on the right," I said absentmindedly, looking around.

While Steve and Bucky brought our things inside, I saw Ellie walking towards one of the covered paintings that hung on the wall. She grasped the light, slightly dusty, cotton material and pulled it from the frame, before letting it flutter gracefully to the ground. A peaceful, colorful landscape was revealed, and I remembered it well.

"It's so pretty," Ellie commented softly, smiling a little.

"Yeah...Maria bought that in Italy," I began explaining, putting my hands loosely in my pockets. "Her and Howard were walking through the village near a vineyard they had toured, and Maria saw this kid with an easel set up on the street across from a field or something...She just _loved_ his work, and wanted to buy the piece he was working on...Howard ended up talking to the kid and bought every completed piece he had."

"Late wedding present, I think," Tony commented off-handedly, doing something on his phone.

"Six-month wedding anniversary," I corrected softly, looking away from the painting to continue observing the home.

"So how 'bout we settle in tonight, and get to work tomorrow morning," Steve suggested, walking back into the foyer with Bucky close behind, who let out a loud yawn.

"Sure," Tony grunted out flatly. "I'll show you the bedrooms."

I watched as everyone else filed up the massive staircase, and eventually out of sight, and a small frown came over my face. I still wasn't sure it it was a good idea to bring Tony here, and going by the expression he had as he climbed the stairs he used to slide down, he wasn't sure how he felt either. I'm sure it brought back memories for him, but at the same time, he'd learned to much about the man his father was since he'd been here last. I, on the other hand, knew exactly how I felt about being here. It didn't really have a name, to be honest, but the closest name I could think of was melancholy. An intense mix of happy and sad feelings.

So many memories here, but they were so long ago.

And they all just reminded me that he was dead.

* * *

Omniscient POV

"Anna?" Bucky called, walking around the grounds of Howard Stark's estate. "Annie? You out here? Steve made dinner, c'mon and eat, darlin'!"

"Not hungry," the blonde finally responded. With his sharp ears, it was easy for Bucky to find his gal. She was on the ground in front of a decent sized pond. A small waterfall created a calming gargle-splashing sound, and the only thing missing seemed to be some brightly colored Koi fish in the water.

"You know, I made Howard put this thing in," Anna said idly. She sat with her knees pulled up to her chest, arms wrapped around them, and her chin on her knees. "In, like, '60, I think, he went for a physical and found out his blood pressure was through the roof...He didn't like the meds the doctor gave him...Said it made it hard for him to work."

Bucky lowered himself to the ground next to his Glow. "Yeah, sounds like Howard," he admitted with a chuckle. "Didn't like anythin' that kept him from his lab."

"Yeah...That's why I twisted his arm to get this installed...Made him promise to sit out here everyday for an hour, without any work files and without a drink," Anna continued.

"Did he do it?" Bucky asked curiously. The Howard he knew was a stubborn as the day was long, but the billionair always had a soft spot for Anna.

"Yup...Whenever he stayed here, 'till the day he died," she answered quietly.

After a moment of silence, anna rested her head on her beau's shoulder. "Not a day goes by that I don't miss him, Bucky..."

He responded by putting his arm around her shoulders and resting his cheek on her head.

"After you-...He was there for me. Yeah, Peggy was just a call away, and the rest of your boys told me I just needed to shout...But Howard-"

"He looked at you like you were his baby sister," Bucky finished her thought. "You sure as Hell weren't alone after Steve and I-...After we _went away_ , but Howard was your shoulder to cry on...He knew just how bad you got."

"After a few years past...Howard was the only one who knew I wasn't alright when I kept sayin' I was...Not many people believed me to begin with, but they thought I was still grieving...Howard knew better," Anna said quietly.

"I know, Annie, I know," Bucky comforted her, rubbing her shoulder and upper arm soothingly. "I know you miss him."

"He was family," Anna mumbled, sniffling, still trying not to cry. "I mean, so many things have changed for me, and-and for _so long_ , Howard was constantly there."

"I know, Annie," Bucky repeated, unsure of what else to say. "I-I don't know if you're still religious like you used to be, and-and probably remember my thoughts on the whole church thing...but if there was ever a guy stubborn enough to make sure to look up after you from the Great Beyond, it'd be Howard,"

Anna smiled cynically. "I-I know that you mean well, sweetheart, but I really hope that's not the case."

"Why not?" Bucky asked.

Anna turned to look at him, and smiled a little. She raised a hand up and gently brushed her thumb over the crease that formed when Bucky's dark brows drew together in worry. She pressed a kiss to his cheek and sighed, before resting her head back on his shoulder.

"One of the _last_ things I would _ever_ want is for my wanna-be-big-brother to see what I've done since he died."

* * *

 **The Next Morning**

Anna was the first one awake, and got a cup of coffee in her hand as she could. Once a large mug of the scalding liquid was in her hand, the blonde planted herself in front of a window at the back of the house and looked out at the manicured backyard. The estate hadn't been lived in for years, but it was kept up, inside and out. The grass was meticulously cut around the patio and the other plant life, the colorful flowers were watered and healthy, and the pool was cleaned and covered. Anna wasn't sure if she was footing the bill for the upkeep, or if Tony was, but it was being done well, so she didn't care that much.

A small wooden structure caught her eye. It was no more than ten yards from the patio and pool, and fairly simple in design. It was essentially a rectangular box without a top or bottom, on one of its long sides. To be used properly, some sandbags would be thrown on it to steady the recoil of the rife that would be resting atop it all.

* * *

 **1947**

" _You invent it?" Dum-Dum asked the man next to him, holding his drink in his hand as he gazed in a stupor at the women by the pool._

" _No...The French," Howard said absentmindedly, putting the phone down._

 _Hardly a minute later, a shark crack broke through the air. Dum-Dum only turned towards the noise, remaining in his realized state leaning back in the lounge chair next to Howard; the billionair didn't even look away from the girls in the pool._

" _How was that one?" Anna called over her shoulder. She was at the little shooting perch she'd whipped up a few weeks prior. Her hair was still done up and smooth from the business brunch she'd attended earlier in the day, and the expensive flowered sundress she wore while attending the brunch was still on her; skirt fanned around her body. Her upper body was propped up slightly for her to see through the scope of the rifle and accurately fire it. Her legs, on the other hand, were bent up at the knee, ankles crossed, and swaying slightly. Her bare feet were tickled by the breeze, and her bright yellow toenails showed that she had been with Kara in the last week. The blonde doctor had recently discovered nail polish, and absolutely adored getting a manicure and pedicure at the solon whenever she could._

 _Howard, in response, lifted up a pair of binoculars and looked through them over the top of his sunglasses. After a moment, he dropped them back down to the table. "You missed."_

" _What?" Anna asked, her head popping up and turning around abruptly. "No I didn't!"_

" _Yeah, 'yea did," Howard responded, taking a drink. "If you were aiming for that target, you missed it, doll face."_

" _I haven't missed in months at 300 yards!" Anna shot back, sitting up and turning around to give Howard an upset pout._

" _Don't know what to tell 'ya, but you missed," Howard sighed, handing the binoculars to Dum-Dum when he gestured for them._

 _After peering through them for a moment, he handed them back. "Looks like he's right, Anna."_

" _I haven't missed in months!" Anna repeated in a huff, stomping over and grabbing the binoculars from the table. She looked through them, swore under her breath in French, then threw them down in Howard's lap. He nearly choked on his drink, which he was taking a sip from, when the kit hit him in the abdomen._

" _I'm going to look at the damn target myself!" Anna declared, stomping off towards the target set up 300 yards from the pool. Her sundress flounced around her as she stomped, bare foot, through the grass to the target._

 _Once she was out of earshot, Dum-Dum turned towards Howard. "How's she holdin' up?"_

 _The billionaire shrugged, unsure both how to answer, and what Anna actually wanted other people to know. "It varies, I guess. Sometimes she's just like she was before, and there are some days where it's a challenge for her to get out of bed."_

" _Christ...She still wanna go out on missions?" Dum-Dum asked, frowning a little._

 _After a swig of his drink, Howard chuckled slightly. "I'd say 'why do you think she's practicing with a rifle', but considering who's rifle she's using, I think she'd be practicing with that thing even if she was a pacifist."_

 _Dum-Dum let out a grunt-like chuckle. After a moment or two, he asked another question. "She still wearin' his tags?"_

" _Took her to the Met Gala a few weeks ago...She wore a three thousand dollar dress, handmade just for her, and refused to take the damn things off just for the evening. I asked her, why not take 'me off and put them in your pocketbook 'ear somthing?" Howard sighed, eyeing Anna's form, which was significantly smaller as she approached the target._

" _What'd she say?" Dum-Dum asked._

 _Howard stayed quiet for a moment. The answer seemed so personal, and he didn't want to overstep. "She told me that when Barnes put them on her, he said_ _ **I put them on you, and they remind you that first thing when I get back here I'll take them off.**_ _"_

 _Dum-Dum let out a low whistle. "She's never takin' them off, is she?"_

 _Howard shrugged. "She's just waitin' for Barnes to taken them off for her."_

 _Dum-Dum made a low grunting sound to acknowledge that he heard. "She's gonna end up bein' buried in the damn things."_

 _Their conversation was cut short by Anna rushing up with a grin on her face. "I_ _ **told you**_ _that I didn't miss!" She giggled as she passed both men, tossing the target paper over Howard's head._

 _He batted it away, clearly annoyed that it was blocking his sun, and turned to glare at the blonde, who was already opening the door into the estate. While Dum-Dum was laughing at Anna's actions, Howard was taking a moment to look at the target so unceremoniously draped over him. "Huh."_

" _What? She poke a hole in it with a pencil 'er sumthin'?" Dum-Dum asked through his chuckles._

" _Oh...Pretty far from it," Howard said, holding up the paper target. The red silhouette stood out on the white paper, and the black lines inside the silhouette were made to be seen far away through a scope._

 _When the target was held up to the sky, it blocked out a majority of the light, but there was one small point where it filtered through._

" _She hit it so dead on, I thought she missed," Howard explained, slightly shocked._

 _The little black dot that signified an immediate kill shot was gone, replaced with a perfectly round little hole, made by a bullet._

 _Dum-Dum let out a low whistle. "Last time I saw a shot that good-"_

" _-it came from the same gun by a guy who wore the same damn dog tags," Howard finished for him, lowering his sunglasses to get a better look._

* * *

Howard had the target framed and hung up in Anna's bedroom at the estate; Bucky had asked Anna about it when they went up to bed the previous night. That's what prompted her to seek out the little wooden thing in the first place.

It was where she practiced for hours on end, until she could hit the stupid red silhouette dead between it's nonexistent eyes.

Unbenounced to Anna, Howard had actually kept all of her kill-shop targets. There were stacked neatly in his vault and in a metal drawer labeled 'AB.' He kept them just in case Anna ever needed a little confidence boost. He had know how unlikely that scenario was, but he wanted to be prepared, just in case.

Anna was broken out of her thoughts by a presence next to her on the window seat.

"Good morning, Anna," Ellie said quietly, folding her legs under herself as she sat on the window seat next to the blonde. "How did you sleep?"

"Once I complained to Howard that my bed here was too hard...Next night, I walked into my bedroom, and there was a brand new mattress from this tiny little company in Belgium that makes these magnificent mattresses..." Anna smiled a little, and paused to take a drink of coffee. "Bucky was gettin' a little hands last night and wanted to get a busy, if you know what I mean, but the moment he landed on that bed, he forgot all about that...So, so answer your question, I slept _fantastically._ "

Ellie smiled, and brought a hand up to her lips to cover her mouth while she giggled. The brunette was always a fan of 'sweater paws,' so it wasn't unusual to see her in an oversized sweatshirt where only her fingers poked out of the cuffs, but this particular sweatshirt made Anna smile slyly.

"Nice sweatshirt," the blonde commented idly, taking a sip of her coffee to hide her smirk while Ellie blushed. The sweatshirt in question was charcoal grey and absolutely _massive_ on Ellie, and had a worn out, peeling black S.H.I.E.L.D. logo. It fell to her thighs over her blue leggings, and Anna knew almost instantly that it belonged to Steve; it was probably one of his old training hoodies.

Still blushing hard, Ellie looked down at the cuffs of the sweatshirt. "I-I got cold last night...I-I went looking for an extra blanket and ran into Steve as he came back from getting a glass of water...He-He gave it to me."

" _Aw_ ," Anna said in a dramatic, sappy way.

"Oh don't do that!" Ellie said in a soft huff, crossing her arms. "You know we are in a-in a _relationship_ of sorts...I don't see why you're teasing me about it."

"It's 'cause we're friend, Ellie," Anna laughed. "That's just what friends do."

"So I can tease you and Bucky?" She questioned, a small smirk on her face, but it looked funny on her soft, innocent features, so it came off like a devious smile.

"Bucky and I have some different circumstances," Anna admitted after a moment. "If you had known is back when we first got together, you would'a been free in clear...How 'bout this-When Steve starts teasing us, you're in the clear."

Ellie smiled, and nodded.

The pair lapsed into silence, staring contently out the window in the sleepy house.

"Hey Ellie?" Anna asked softly, not looking away from the window. She had an important question to ask the brunette mutant. Anna didn't take any pleasure in asking Ellie this question, but she cared about Steve too much not to ask. Anna cared about Ellie too, and worried about how this was settling with her emotionally and mentally, but a little part of her felt responsible for Steve's safety, just like she had since she was the only one still around that made him physically who he was today.

"Yes?" Ellie asked, looking at Anna, and becoming very apprehensive at the serious, stoic, worried expression on her face.

"Have you told Steve about Henry?" Anna asked, taking a sip of her coffee. She heard Ellie's breath hitch, and instantly felt bad.

"No," the brunette mumbled.

"You know you're gonna have to if you two are gonna keep up with your relationship, you're gonna have to tell Steve what happened with you and Henry sometime," Anna told her, making Ellie frowned deeper.

"It-It wouldn't ever happen again...It-It's been almost thirty years since that happened, and-and I've gained so much control since then..." Ellie mumbled, playing with a chunk of her hair, twirling it around her fingers and tugging on it. She idly wished she had braided her hair before she came downstairs, so she had something more substantial to tug on. "And...What happened with Henry only happened because I didn't want to happen in the first place."

"I know...But you should tell him," Anna said, finally looking at Ellie with a soft smile. "I've known Steve for a lot longer than you have, alright? Sure, not in the same way, but I know him well enough to know that he really, really cares about you...If you take the time to explain it all to him and make it clear you weren't planning on keeping it from him forever, he'll understand."

"People don't usually wait for me to finish my explanations..." Ellie mumbled, reaching under the cuffs of the hoodie to rub her scars. "The beginnings of my stories are just so bad that most don't stay for the ending..."

"Steve will," Anna said, her voice was assuring and confident, making Ellie feel a little better.

The pair remained on the window seat for several more minutes, before a noise from the kitchen drew Ellie away from Anna, who was content in her memories and coffee. The sound from the kitchen turned out to be Steve, which made the brunette smile. She quickly went to his side, and gave him a hug before he could grasp the coffee mug he was reaching for, causing the blond man to laugh.

"Good morning Steve," Ellie mumbled into his t-shirt clad chest, smiling.

Steve responded by hugging the petite brunette back and pressing a kiss to her bed-mussed thick dark brown locks. "Mornin' sweetheart," he said into her hair, smiling as well.

They stayed together in their hug for some time, just enjoying each other in their embrace, and the quiet of the morning. Both of them knew that the moment everyone was awake, Anna would begin whatever sort of plan was going on in her head, and nobody would get any peace until they went to bed that night.

When the pair finally parted, Ellie let out a high pitched yelp when Steve grabbed her waist in his large hands and lifted her effortlessly up onto the counter, making her giggle. Steve winked at her in response, and went on getting his morning coffee. When she asked politely, Steve handed Ellie an orange from one of the large bags of food they had brought with them the previous day. After Ellie showed her thanks by pressing a soft kiss to Steve's stubbly cheek, she looked down at the fruit in her hands, staring at it intently.

"...Waitin' to see if it's gonna move on 'ya 'er sumthin'?" Steve teased gently, leaning on the counter across from his gal. In the early morning, his voice seemed to take on more of an accent; it was like his messy hair brought out a little Brooklyn in him.

"Shh," Ellie shushed him, closing her eyes and concentrating.

After only a few moments, the cool, smooth and uneven skin of the fruit was gone, replaced by the uneven, slightly sticky feeling of the inside of the fruit. Steve was stunned as he watched the peel of the orange disappear right before his eyes. Ellie was pleased with the result, and used her thumb and forefinger to pull one of the sections of the orange out from the spherical fruit, and bit into it.

Steve began to chuckle slightly at the situation; his girlfriend using her potentially deadly mutation to peel her orange whilst swinging her bare feet over the edge of the counter. When he asked why she didn't peel it the way a normal human would, Ellie blushed in response and mumbled that she found it very difficult to pierce the skin of the fruit without some sort of blade, and it was simply easier to deconstruct the peel to its atoms and blink the atoms out of existence.

The blond moved to lean on the counter next to Ellie, drinking his coffee while she contently ate her orange, plucking the crescent-shaped sections out one by one. She ended up resting her head on his shoulder, something she always liked to do when she could. When they were both sitting, Ellie's head ended up resting on Steve's upper arm, due to his height, but with him standing and Ellie sitting on the counter, she was able to lean her cheek on his strong shoulder. Steve responded by gently placing his hand on Ellie's knee, squeezing periodically and giving Ellie a feeling of comfort by rubbing his thumb in circles over the Lycra-cotton material of her leggings.

For the new couple, it was a fairly pleasant morning.

* * *

 **Somewhere in South America**

 _Thunk - Thud - Smack_

 _Thunk - Thud - Smack_

 _Thunk - Thud - Smack_

The repetitive sound was the only thing meeting TJ's ears. It came from a rubber ball he was idly throwing and catching.

He sat sideways on his bed, back against the wall, legs stretched out over the mattress, and his head against the cool plaster covering the wall. The orangey-pink rubber ball was thrown at the wall across from him, then it bounced on the hardwood floor before he caught it in his palm, only to throw it again. The triangle formed by the rubber ball was the only thing in the room TJ was being held in that was able to hold his interest. More specifically, it the only thing that he could confirm not to be bugged or poisoned.

After the video call with Anna and the rest of the team, TJ had a bag pulled over his head and he was freed from his chair. All the pushing and shoving brought him to a plane, and a subsequent very long plane ride. Then the tech was shoved and pushed into a helicopter. Once he landed, the bag was removed so he could descend the steps without fear of falling down them. The dark stairway made TJ panic, but when the door at the bottom was opened up, he was surprised to see what appeared to look like an expensive home instead of a torture dungeon.

His room was more like a guest studio apartment. There was a comfortable bed with nice linens, a closet full of clothes his size, a small kitchen fully stocked with food, and everything needed to cook. There was a sizable bathroom, fully stocked and clean. A TV cabinet with various movies and a DVD player, as well as two different gaming systems and a good quantity of games. A desk was behind the sofa, stocked with various papers, envelopes, pencils and pens-even some art supplies. The windows were large and gave a view of some jungle. When he first arrived, he was stunned to see the windows were not only in-barred, but could open wide. But he realized why this was the moment he looked down. His apartment-cell was, to his guess, six stories off the ground, and heavily armed guards were patrolling at two minute intervals.

The morning after TJ got to the-Well, where ever he was-Enrico Slavic himself came by to see the former S.H.I.E.L.D. tech. It was then that TJ was informed that he was less of a prisoner and more of a guest who simply wasn't allowed to leave (the door wasn't locked, but there were two large men with big guns standing on either side of it in the hallway). If TJ wanted any specific food, or anything else for that matter, he only had to write it down and give it to one of the men outside his door before Wednesday, when the housekeeper did the shopping. TJ sarcastically demanded a laptop and internet block from Slavic, to which the older man simply chuckled, shook his head, then left.

 _Thunk - Thud - Smack_

 _Thunk - Thud - Smack_

 _Thunk - Thud - Smack_

 _Thunk - Thud - Smack_

 _Thunk - Thud - Smack_

Before TJ could throw the ball again, the door opened up. It was one of the big men with guns. Because TJ rarely saw or interacted with them, he didn't know any of their names.

"Get up, Señor Barnes," the man said in a thick accent. It sounded Spanish to TJ's ear, bout could have easily been one of the indigenous languages of South America. "My employer wishes to speak with you."

TJ wordlessly dropped the rubber ball on his unmade bed, hauled himself up and walked out the door. The armed men stood on each side of him, weapons out, and silently led him down a grand staircase before stopping in front of two large wooden doors. They each opened one, and the one who spoke gave TJ a nudge into the room with the butt of his rifle. It was a bit too hard, causing the tech to stumble a little.

A deep voice snapped something harsh in Spanish, causing the man who shoved TJ to lower his head, mumble something, then close both doors.

TJ took a moment to look around the room, and made sure to catch every detail.

It was a grand dining room, fully decorated in a fine Spanish style, complete with a table that could easily seat twenty, a lit fire place, and plenty of fine art up on the plaster walls.

"TJ," Enrico said fondly, standing from the seat at the head of the table across the room. He approached TJ with open arms, and embraced the tech as if they were old friends. TJ remained frozen in place. When the hug ended, Enrico put a hand between the younger man's shoulder blades and firmly lead him down the table to the end where he and the woman TJ knew as 'Maria' were sitting. A well-dressed waiter-type man pulled a chair out, and Enrico shoved TJ into it.

"You have been here nearly half a week, and my employees tell me you have not been taking full advantage of the amenities I have provided for you," Enrico said as he returned to his seat at the end of the table. Maria sat on his right side, TJ on his left, and the tech was uncomfortable under the latina's harsh gaze. Enrico took a drink of the red wine in the fine crystal glass at his seat.

TJ didn't respond, instead he just swallowed and scratched his thumbnail. The industrial glue he had been scratching at before was long gone, thanks partly to his situation, and now the nail on his pinky finger simply scratched over the bare nail. He feared idly that if he kept doing it, the nail would wear down and crack.

"Aren't you going to say anything, TJ?" Enrico questioned, not sounding angry or annoyed, only curious and oddly enough, a little concerned. His response was a simple shake of his head.

The tech had done hardly anything since he arrived.

He only ate prepackaged food, which happened to be Ramen noodles that he made in the old-school coffee maker with bottled water. TJ showered every other day, and only used the bar of soap, which he had inspected carefully before unwrapping it from the plastic. He hadn't shaved either, leaving him with a good amount of dark scruff on his jaw, cheeks and neck. When he showered, he put on the same clothes (cargo shorts and a grey t-shirt), and only wore the cheap underwear in the closet; it was the only one in sealed plastic store packaging. Aside from eating and showering, TJ spent his days throwing the rubber ball against the wall and floor. The cuts and bruises on his face had nearly healed, but TJ didn't pay them any mind.

Maria made a sound of derision from the other side of the table, earning a glare from Slavic. She didn't cower like the other man had, but she did look away.

"TJ, I know the circumstances under which you came into my custody are less than desirable," Enrico admitted. "But that aside, I do wish you to have a level of comfort during your stay here."

The tech raised an eyebrow slightly, hardly seen under his shaggy hair, but Enrico seemed to notice the change in his face. "And...What do I have to do to get this... _comfort_?"

Slavic chuckled as he took another drink. "Nothing is required of you at this time, TJ, and should something be required of you in the future, I plan on informing you myself."

TJ narrowed his eyes slightly.

The grey-haired man sighed, and leaned back in his chair, swirling the dark red liquid in his glass. "TJ, I can assure you, you are in no immediate danger here."

There was a heavy pause, during which Maria pinned TJ with another glare, which he had to look away from.

"Shifting the topic of conversation slightly," Enrico said, frowning slightly when nothing was said. "I am worried for your health, TJ."

The tech just blinked in response.

"I will be the first to admit that I have lived a privileged life, and never had to survive on packaged noodles as you did during your years of university schooling. But nonetheless I am worried that your health will deteriorate if you continue to only eat food you needlessly make in a coffeemaker," Enrico sighed. He made a motion with his hand over his shoulder, and three men in suits and white gloves entered.

Each placed a covered silver dish in front of the three people seated at the table, and lifted the lid off. TJ couldn't help but open his mouth slightly in shock and widen his eyes.

On the fine china in front of TJ was a pasty; his favorite food from home. Complete with a fair amount of ketchup next to it.

"I was hoping that some familiar food might put you at ease," Enrico explained, picking up his knife and fork, only after spreading his napkin over his lap.

TJ's knee began shaking, and he pressed a palm to it to make it stop shaking. After hesitating, he spoke. His voice was slightly hoarse from disuse over the last five days, but Enrico heard him just fine.

"I want communication home once a week," TJ demanded softly. "An hour long, unsupervised video call at a time of my choosing, and-and uncensored letters whenever I want with the ability to confirm proper delivery."

" _Letters_?" Enrico said, chuckling slightly.

"Well, I don't think you'll let me email," TJ said in a muttered, snotty tone. That only made Maria scoff as she ate her own pasty, and Enrico chuckled heartily.

"I suppose you're right," Enrico sighed, taking a bite off his fork. He chewed thoughtfully, and spoke after he swallowed. "Half hour monitored class at a time of my choosing every six weeks, and censored letters whenever you like, no confirmation of delivery."

The counter offer made TJ frown. Thankfully, his great-grandma Becky taught him how to haggle.

"Hour and a half long calls once a month, 45 minutes of it censored. You choose the week, I choose the day. Censored letters with ability to confirm delivery whenever I want," TJ said, meeting Enrico's gaze with more pointed and stern. " _And_ I want the freezer in my space upstairs to be stocked with ice cream, popcorn, pasties _and_ Hot Pockets."

Slavic seemed to think this over, and nodded slowly. "I agree to these terms, TJ," he said calmly, then eyed how the food on TJ's plate was untouched. "Am I to assume that you wish to finish your meal in your quarters?"

The tech nodded, and Enrico sighed. He waved a waiter forward, and spoke in rapid Spanish. The man nodded, then went to the large doors.

One of the men who brought TJ down to the dining room entered, and the tech took that as a sign to get up. The two left the room, and walked wordlessly beside one another back up the steps to TJ's 'quarters.' Once at the door, TJ stopped and took a second to look at the man with the gun.

He was easily six-eight, with darkened skin, black hair that was cropped on the sides and longer on top, slicked back smoothly, and had piercing dark brown eyes. They were nearly black they were so dark. He was built like a bodybuilder, his muscles straining in the tight, long-sleeved black shirt he wore, and his legs were clad in camouflage tactical pants in varying shades of green (to match the jungle, presumably) tucked into combat boots. The most noticeable part of his appearance, though, was the scarring on the left side of his face. It looked like he had been whipped; the thick, linear scars were layered on top of one another, and marred what would have been a marginally handsome face. It pulled one corner of his lip down, making it look like he was permanently scowling. The scars looked warped and stretched, like they were obtained long before he was done growing, forcing the thickened skin to accommodate to the changes his facial structure made over the years.

"Hey, what's your name, man?" TJ asked, standing in his doorway. The guy looked at him, one eyebrow raised slightly in surprise. The guy looked away briefly, brows furrowed, and he looked like he was thinking _very_ hard.

"Uh, _¿Como te llaman?_ " TJ spoke again, realizing the guy might not speak English.

There was a flicker of recognition in the guy's eyes, and he straightened his shoulders, which had slumped some while he had been trying to understand what TJ had said.

" _Yo soy Santiago_ ," he responded in a raspy, deep voice.

TJ nodded, a polite smile on his face. "Er, uh, _¿Entiendes inglés?_ "

The man chuckled, and pulled the unscarred corner of his mouth up in a slight smile. It was an odd expression; what with half his mouth permanently scowling, and the other slightly amused. One of his calloused hands left the rifle slung over his chest, and he held it up slightly. His thick thumb and forefinger were held less than half an inch apart, the international symbol for 'a little.' Sure enough, it was followed by the man chuckling once and saying " _Un poco inglés._ "

TJ let out a breathy laugh, and nodded once in understanding. They stood there for a moment, then TJ entered his quarters, and Santiago took his stance outside his door.

The former tech sighed heavily once he was inside the large room. He went to the desk, and pulled out a piece of what looked like fine stationery and a ballpoint pen. He scrawled _Spanish-English Dictionary_ at the top of it, then dropped the pen and flopped onto the sofa, which was plush and comfortable.

It only took about ten minutes of silence before TJ caved and grabbed the remote. Thankfully, the TV stations were all American, so he could actually understand them. Once a rerun of _Mythbusters_ was playing, TJ got comfortable on the sofa, which involved laying across the cushions, head resting on one plush pillow, and the other was being hugged to his chest.

TJ missed all his teammates and his family, but he also missed Helen.

They used to watch _Mythbusters_ together while she was in the hospital recovering from Ultron's attack. TJ would sync-up their feeds of the Discovery Channel so they watched the same thing at the very same time, and would be on the phone as they watched, discussing what they watched. The loneliness he felt was slowly giving him anxiety, which would no doubt lead to him vomiting out the window.

Before he fell asleep, TJ reached behind him and list he'd started. He added one item before tossing the pen and paper onto the coffee table, then settled back down to watch the duct tape myths be put to the test.

The list now read;

 _Spanish-English Dictionary_

 _M24 SWS Rifle (no ammunition)_


	56. Chapter 56: The Study

**Sorry I've been away, my darlings.**

 **Been struggling with a bit of a bad headspace; depression seems to sense when the amazing Upper Peninsula summer months are upon us, and chooses to rear it's ugly head.**

 **But I'm doing better now, and am trying to get back in the swing of things before my fall semester starts.**

 **Now, onto my writing, this is sort of a jumbled mess of me getting over writers block and a massive lack of motivation. Its a bit of a filler, cause I can't make myself jump right into the action. Some cool stuff is coming, though. I promise. :)**

 **Love 'ya to crumbs, my cupcakes ;)**

 **~Christianne**

* * *

Omniscient POV

Bucky woke up late. He was a notorious sleeper; way back when, during the war, the other Commandos would tease him about his ability to fall asleep just about anywhere. He did, of course, sleep where most guys couldn't, like in one of the loud, rattling planes that took them to their raid locations. While he _could_ sleep just about anywhere, Bucky wasn't a particularly heavy sleeper unless he was zonked out somewhere _really_ comfortable.

And Anna's bed at Howard's estate was one of the most comfortable things he ever had the opportunity to touch, let alone sleep in.

The soldier was still half asleep when he meandered into the kitchen.

"Mornin' you two," he said through a yawn, seeing Ellie and Steve in the kitchen as well.

"Good morning, Bucky," Ellie greeted, giving him a smile as she lifted her head from Steve's shoulder. Bucky could just about see the little look of disappointment that crossed his friend's features when the weight left his shoulder.

When Anna first told Bucky about the mutant and his best friend, it took his own gal nearly an hour to convince him not to tease the new couple about it, no matter how much he wanted to. Bucky understood why, when he really thought about it. Steve and Ellie didn't really have any experience with relationships, and both had told Anna in confidence (on two different occasions, not with each other) that they didn't want to lose what they had, or could have. Naturally, the blonde told Bucky, and made him all but swear on the Bible to leave Steve and Ellie alone.

"How'd 'ya sleep, pal?" Steve questioned, taking a gulp of his coffee, then gesturing to the correct cabinet in the kitchen where the mugs were, promoted by Bucky's opening and closing of the cabinets.

"Great," Bucky said with a grin as he filled his newfound mug with hot coffee.

"You know what I really love about the twenty-first century?" Bucky asked, adding just a splash of milk into his coffee. He spoke up again before Steve or Ellie could even venture a guess. " _The beds_. I mean, the SSR had us set up real nice in London 'n everything, but _my God_."

Bucky slumped onto the counter slightly, smiling a blissful, lazy, amazed smile, ignoring Steve's amused chuckle.

"It's like sleepin' on a damn cloud!" The dark haired man practically gushed, grinning like a child.

"Bucky!" Steve chided softly, looking sternly at his friend whilst glancing periodically at Ellie, whom had gracefully slid off the counter to rummage through the bags of food for another orange, or perhaps a pear.

"Oh, c'mon Steve!" Bucky half-laughed, rolling his eyes. "I'm sure your gal appreciates the gentlemanly charm guys from our time are known for, but I'm sure she'd heard a little cussin' before!"

Ellie giggled as the two best friends bickered, shaking her head a little as she pouched a peach from the paper sack. When the friendly disagreement was put to rest for the time being, they returned to their previous topic of twenty-first century beds.

"Don't you feel...feel like you're just gonna sink right through the mattress?" Steve found himself asking, genuinely wondering.

"Sure do!" Bucky confirmed with a nod and a grin. "The one I slept in last night could swallow me up whole and I really wouldn't mind that much."

"Hm," Steve said in response. Bucky seemed to have the opposite feelings as him and Sam once back home; the couldn't sleep well on a soft bed, and Bucky couldn't get enough of one. In the back of Steve's mind, he thought it might have something to do with when he was still under HYDRA control. Being frozen and thawed in what was essentially a climate controlled coffin with a window seemed like a perfect reason for Bucky to prefer the soft, plush comfort and warmth of a real bed.

The three stood in the kitchen in a comfortable, lazy morning silence. Ellie ate her peach while the boys drank their coffee. Bucky offered to pour the girl a cup, but she quickly and politely declined, mumbling a sheepish explanation about how caffeine did not mix well with her brain chemistry and mutation. Steve started to back up the explanation, much to Ellie's relief, but Bucky simply held his hands up in mock surrender, making all three of them laugh in amusement.

Bucky grinned at the pair across the island multiple times; Steve had once again wrapped an arm around Ellie's waist and lifted her up effortlessly to deposit her onto the counter next to him, and kept his arm around her. Bucky held his gaze to them at one particular time, watching with curious eyes. Ellie bit enthusiastically into her peach, causing juice to drip down her chin. Steve, without a second thought or breaking the conversation he was having with his best friend, gently used the pad of his thumb to wipe the fruit juice off Ellie's chin, nudging her bottom lip in the process. The brunette mumbled a thank you and lightly bumped Steve's upper thigh with her knee. Steve, who had already rid his thumb of the peach juice with his own mouth, just shrugged and pressed a quick kiss to her hair.

Some time later, Ellie excused herself from the kitchen to get properly dressed and ready for the day. As Ellie walked down the lengthy hallway to the back staircase, Steve just stood in the doorway and watched his gal walk out of sight. Once she had ascended the steps to the point where Steve could no longer see her, the blond turned and found Bucky looking at him with a knowing smirk on his face.

He rolled his eyes and let out a sigh. "Ok, _what_?"

"Pretty nice, isn' it?" Was all Bucky said, still smirking, eyes sparkling over the edge of his coffee cup. It was Bucky's turn to roll his eyes, and put his cup down. "Seein' your gal in your clothes. Pretty nice feelin', right?"

With more context, Steve's cheeks flushed and he cleared his throat before speaking. "Yeah...Yeah, it-it's a pretty nice feelin.'"

"You know, the-the other guy knockin' around in my here," Bucky said, gesturing lazily to his temple, clearly referring to James. "He kinda showed me how nice a feelin' it was...I used to see Anna wear my shirts 'n stuff all the time back during the war, but-but a few nights ago, I had this dream-Wasn't really a dream, I guess, more of a memory...Saw Annie through his eyes, wearin' one'a the sweaters she got 'im... _me_."

Bucky trailed off, staring into space like he often did when speaking about time spent in the back of his mind with James in the driver's seat. After a moment or two, Steve gave his friend a nudge. The move jolted Bucky out of his daze, and after just a moment of rapid blinking to collect his thoughts, the brunet was grinning again, but his eyes seemed to hold less of a sparkle.

"It's a nice feelin'," Bucky repeated, sighing.

Steve was a little more worried about his friend than he was before, but kept it hidden well. "Yeah...It sure is a nice feelin', pal."

* * *

While the super soldiers and the mutant were in the kitchen, Anna was on the second floor of the house, sitting against the wall, butt on the floor, staring at the double doors across from her.

The doors led to the library of the estate, but once Howard moved in, he set up shop in there. It was only when Maria got her hands on it did the room actually become a study, instead of a room full of books with blueprints taped to the spines. The room itself was beautiful; polished dark wood, high ceilings and large windows that opened up to a small balcony. The balcony was put in by Maria, as a place for her husband to smoke cigars if he so wished, as there was absolutely no smoking in the house after Tony was born. Not even in areas where the baby spent little to no time in, like his father's study. As if to deter Howard even more, Maria stocked the shelves of the library with all of her husband's favorite books; hardcover editions of scientific journals he was mentioned or published in, antique first editions of his favorite novels, and framed artwork by old masters hung next to crayon drawings or finger paintings by his son.

It had been decades since Anna had been in the study. She wondered if the rolling ladder on the left side of the room still rattled when it was pulled towards the door. Was the wet bar still off-center on the far wall? Did Howard keep his first dollar in the cheap, cracked, resin frame on the shelf near his desk with all the other pictures? Had he finally realized that keeping his safe deposit box key taped to the back of an old family portrait of his great-great-grandmother wasn't the best idea? Did he ever start using the coat rack by the doors, or did he continue to sling his tie and jacket on the flattened rungs of one of the ladders?

A snide part of Anna's mind reminded her that until she opened the door and went in, her questions. No matter how much Anna wanted to just go somewhere else in the large house to set up a command center, it just didn't seem right. This study was made to be used as a war room; Howard would have been giddy to know that it was going to be used in that way. He'd had special chalkboards installed. They hid inside the walls like pocket doors, and rolled out on casters. The chalkboards were magnetic, so things could be attached, and there was even one wide section with a large world map painted onto it.

In her day dreaming of the time spent in the study, Anna hadn't realize that she'd gotten to her feet, and was even reaching for the vintage door handle. Once she put her hand down, and had a stern mental talk with herself, Anna picked up the bag from the ground, next to where she had been sitting, hoisted it over her shoulder, and looked at the doors with a near-glare.

"Don't be a baby about this Brightman," she mumbled to herself as she put both hands on the door handles, then threw the doors open with force, just like she used to. They didn't make the satisfying slam like they used to, thanks to the stoppers Howard designed specifically so she wouldn't make any deeper divots in the walls, a byproduct of her slamming habit.

As Anna stood in the doorway, the stale air, making her cough softly. Once it passed, she took a few steps inside the study, only to have her senses attacked with stimuli that brought up so many memories. The smell of leather, paper and books assaulted her nose, making her wish the smell of burning wood was somewhere in the mix, from the fireplace that Howard would light on colder days. The feeling of warm sunlight caressed her cheeks as she looked towards the large windows. The wind chimes that hung outside on the balcony chimed softly in the slight breeze.

Howard gave some remote Chinese villages power through low maintenance, self-sustaining generators; just enough for some lights, heating, and to charge some other equipment. Each village gave Howard a set of windchimes, something they believed would ward off negative spirits and invite good fortune. The villagers apologized that the pewter wind chimes were all they could give him, but he gladly accepted the gifts. There was a set of the windchimes in every home Howard owned.

Anna slung the bag on Howard's former desk. It was as neat as a pin, but the blonde knew that if she opened any of the drawers, it would be a cluttered mess.

Before getting to work like she intended, Anna took just a little time to look around the study.

The dollar in the cheap resin frame was amongst the pictures on the shelf of photographs.

The wet bar was still off-center.

The coat rack by the door was indeed empty, and a tie and sport coat were slung over the ladder.

The blonde had to blink quickly in order to avoid any renegade tears from falling down her face, but it was oddly difficult. Anna could just pictured the dark haired, mustachioed man walking into the study, loosening his tie and ultimately taking it off, slinging it on the ladder while he took off the jacket, tossing it on a lower rung. He would then roll his sleeves up to his elbows, went to the wet bar to get a drink, then sat down at his desk to do paperwork or something.

She stood in the middle of the room for a moment or two, then let out a sigh.

 _Old habits die hard_ , Anna thought to herself as she went to the coat rack by the door. She took the fine-crafted wooden hanger from one of the prongs, and slowly trudged back to the ladder that held the sport coat. Hooking the hanger on a rung of the ladder, Anna took the jacket off the that it had been so carelessly slung over. Holding it by the shoulders, she shook the jacket out, and watched a small amount of dust rise into the air. Once the jacket was properly on the hanger, Anna held the jacket by the looped metal hook at the top of the hanger to have a look at the expensive article of clothing. She took time to straighten the collar, tug out some of the wrinkles and undo the half-rolled up sleeves. Nodding slightly at the new state of the jacket, Anna brought the jacket back to the coat rack and hooked the hanger onto one of the prongs.

Howard always had the best suits; the finest materials, best designers, and always up on the latest trends. Anna dressed in a similar fashion-both were always as put together as could be. However, Howard had a bad habit of treating his finest suits like work clothes; like how he carelessly tossed his jacket on the ladder. Anna was raised in a household that was far from perfect or constrictive for a child, but despite that, she was brought up in high society, with manners and etiquette instilled in her from a young age. And what didn't jive with Anna's from money upbringing? Howard not properly hanging up his fine Italian suits. She used to actively wince when he tossed his jacket over the back of a chair, ball it up under his head during a long flight to use it as a pillow, or when he left one of the sleeves mostly inside out from taking if off so quickly.

Tapping her hands on her thighs anxiously, Anna looked around the study once more. She found herself leaning on the ladder the jacket had been on, playing with the silk tie that remained there. The glossy material slid between her fingers easily, and the dark, emerald green color would have matched the suit the jacket belonged to wonderfully, and Howard no doubt looked fantastic in it.

"Lordy...Howard, I don't even know where to start without 'ya here," Anna breathed out into the air, tangling her fingers up in the silk tie, only to bring her hands closer to her face. She briefly brought the fabric to her nose, and smiled a little. It still held just a whiff of Howard's cologne. Still smiling slightly, she tucked her hands beneath her chin. "Feels wrong...Bein' in here without you-"

"I wouldn't say if feels _wrong_ ," a voice from behind Anna cut in. She reacted by jamming the tie into the front pocket of her sweatshirt. Footsteps accompanied the voice, eventually passing her.

"Being in here, I mean," Tony elaborated, spinning on a heel to face the blonde. "Feels..." he trailed off, looking around in thought. " _Wierd_."

Anna just shrugged. "It's weird too, I guess..."

The silence between Tony and Anna was heavy. Ever since the helicarrier, before the Battle of New York, the pair had been tense. Anna felt guilty; for abandoning Howard and the subsequent impact on Tony, and for simply disappearing on him when he was so young. Tony had even more mixed emotions. He carried some half-hearted, irritated resentment he'd initially felt towards Steve to Anna, having grown up in the shadow of the SSR's best. There was also a pang of sadness mixed in, simply because he missed her; he could recall thinking of her as his favorite aunt as just a young kid, and then she was just _gone_.

The precarious silence was broken when Tony sighed heavily, and went to the wet bar. After pouring himself a glass of something from a crystal tumblr, the genius threw back a good sized gulp. " _Gah!_ " Tony half-gagged, looking at the glass in disgust.

"That's probably his client tumblr," Anna said offhandedly.

"His _what_?" Tony repeated, pouring the rest of the alcohol down the drain of the sink, his face still screwed up in disgust.

"Client tumblr," Anna repeated. "I made a barrel of moonshine God-knows how long ago, just to prove to your dad that I could. The alcohol content was through the roof. Howard liked to keep a tumblr of the stuff mixed with a little dark liquor on hand. If he thought some tipsy businessmen would help move things along, he'd just pour them a glass or two."

"And they actually _drank_ that crap?" Tony exclaimed, still making faces from the drink. Anna almost laughed; she knew better than to take a big gulp of bootleg like that, and knew the burning feeling Tony was experiencing.

"If you were a businessman invited to Howard Stark's estate, and he gave you a drink, would _you_ say anything? Let alone _complain_ about it?" Anna asked, amused at the idea.

Tony thought for a split second, then made a gesture and face as if to say 'fair enough.'

After some time spent by simply staring at one another, both Tony and Anna began unpacking what they brought into the study. Anna piled files and other documents onto the desk while Tony opened up the large black briefcase-like boxes he'd lugged in, which turned out to be computers. He was very focused on what was being displayed on the screens, and only looked up when a scratchy, rolling sound caught his attention; Anna had yanked the large chalkboards out of the wall. She coughed, and fanned her hand around her face, trying to rid the air of the dust that had been pulled out of the wall along with the chalkboards.

"Well then," Anna said with a heavy sigh. "Should we divide and conquer, or join forces and go straight down the middle?"

Tony paused for a just a moment, hardly long enough for Anna to notice, he thought. "Divide and conquer."

Anna caught his hesitation; his father used to do the same thing-he also thought she wouldn't pick up on it.

"Alright then," she said with a nod. "Let's get to it, then."

* * *

 **Later that day, just before midnight**

Tony's equipment was spread out all over the large meeting table in the corner, with countless programs running in order to track down HYDRA agents, and associates of Slavic. When one was located, he passed the information onto Anna, who was set up in Howard's desk chair in front of the chalkboard, using all her information in an effort to pinpoint Slavic's location. It was crucial to know his home base for two reasons; to know travel times on both sides, and it was also where TJ was most likely being kept.

The genius was waiting for results while slouched in a chair and a drink in hand. Anna was curled up in the high back leather chair; elbow braced on the wooden arm and head in her hand, with her feet curled up under her.

"Hey Tony?" Anna asked, breaking the silence. She got a 'Hm?' in response, as Tony had been taking a drink at the time. "I'm scared."

 _That_ threw him. A declaration of fear was the _last_ thing he would've expected from the woman who he'd seen run towards Chitauri without so much as a hand gun.

"Not about Slavic, or what he's planning...It's nothing new to me, considering..." The blonde trailed off, her face relatively emotionless as she stared at the chalkboards, full of papers depicting all the possible people they would be dealing with. "It's what comes after that scares the living daylights outta me."

"After what? After the wanna-be warlord?" Tony asked, his curiosity too strong to let the conversation go.

"Yup," Anna responded simply.

"How will it be different from the aftermath of any other fight?" Tony questioned. "Start the clean up and set up all the aid organizations, get something to eat, then sleep for a few days before trying to get on with life."

"It's the 'trying to get on with life' part that's a little daunting," she explains.

Just as Tony was about to ask why, it dawned on him. "Because Bucky's back."

This time, Anna looked at him and gave a small, sad smile. She looked back at the chalkboard when she spoke. "I'm happy he's alive and back...Happy doesn't even begin to cover it, I mean-I-I thought I wouldn't see him again until I died."

"But now your boyfriend is walking around again, and you don't know how to handle it," Tony guessed.

"In a way," Anna admitted. "I'm scared that when all this is over, when we're not fighting anymore that he won't like who I've become."

Tony remained silent.

"I mean," Anna let out a humorless laugh. "That's assuming that I can live a normal life after more than 60 years of _this_." She threw her hand forward towards the chalkboard.

"I want to...God, do I want to have a normal life with him. It's been my dream to live out my days with him since we started meeting up back at Camp Leigh," she kept speaking. Tony opted to stay silent, letting the blonde rant on. "But now we're in a different century, I haven't been aging and Bucky presumably will, even with a messed up mind, he's still relatively the same and I hardly recognize myself in the mirror half the time..." She trailed off, her face sad.

Frowning at the chalkboard again, Anna huffed. "A man with nearly unlimited resources and a vendetta against me and my friends has be staring at the beginnings of a war, but what's really terrifying me is that I can't make my beau happy when this is all over."

Tony contemplated what Anna just said, and actually managed to feel his opinion of the blonde change on the spot. He'd held a decent amount of resentment towards her because she seemed to just... _go on_. She just walked away from his dad-from _him_ -and just went on like nothing had changed for her. Tony had to admit that he admired her for the same reason he held some resentment towards her; Anna seemed to have it all together all the time.

Turns out she's just as messed up as the rest of them. More so, even.


End file.
